Sleeping with the Enemy
by Deanlu
Summary: I wrote this with Christine Toups years ago! It was my first collaboration which I loved. All I can say is Xena, Gabrielle, Gods, and a lot of wicked people!
1. Chapter 1

**"Sleeping with the Enemy"**

**an original work**

**by (Deanlu)& (ROO)**

**Dedicated to Renee O'Connor **

**Disclaimer: ****The characters in Xena: Warrior Princess are the property of MCA/Universal and Renaissance Pictures. No copyright infringement is intended. This fan fiction may be copied for personal use only, may not be sold, and must contain all notices of copyright. **

**Acknowledgments: ****The authors of this story wish to thank the following individuals: Atalanta, Anon. for their more than occasional constructive input; gratuitous thanks to XWPWarrioress, executive story consultant; EMartin(toao) for the cover concept and design; and Mit18 for her selfless work at the presentation of this manuscript. Thank you.**

**Copyright 1997 "Two Bards Writing". This work may not be reproduced and sold without expressed written permission of the authors herein. **

**Chapter I**

'**Night, Sleep, Death and the Stars'**

Gabrielle threw another log on the fire and sat down heavily, watching the flames dance while she waited for Xena to return from her hunting expedition. In contrast to the crystal clear evening sky, fog cloaked the ground like an amorphous shroud and settled a damp chill around her shoulders. More to keep herself occupied than to placate her muse, Gabrielle pulled her best quill and a half-finished scroll from her pack, intent on completing a letter she'd begun a half dozen times; the quill hovered in the air, aimless. After a few moments, Gabrielle wadded up the paper and threw it angrily to the ground. "Who am I kidding? I can't do it!"

"You can't do what?" Xena said as she strode into camp, two hastily-gutted and plucked quail dangling from a length of twine. Gabrielle turned quickly, startled out of her thoughts, and caught Xena's barely disguised frown of disapproval.

"I know," said Gabrielle, and parroted her friend's oft-told advice: "I'm sitting with my back to the treeline..."

Xena handed her the two plucked birds. "It's alright, Gabrielle, just pay attention next time." Gabrielle ran two sharpened sticks through the quail and set them to cook over the fire. As she sat beside her friend, Xena reached down and gathered up the discarded parchment. She ran it over her thigh once to make it legible, and began to read. Momentarily, she looked up at her companion. "You're** not** going to tell them by letter?"

"No!" said Gabrielle defensively. "That would be stupid, and callous and unfeeling.

That would be the coward's way."

"Yep," countered Xena, not a woman to use two words where one would do.

"It's just that sometimes it helps to write these things out first...edit, perfect, and..."

"...and you're stalling," interjected Xena.

"And I'm stalling. Okay. I admit it." She shook her head, and leaned forward, wrapping her arms around her knees. "I should never have put it off this long."

"Go home and talk to them. They should hear the details from your own mouth."

Gabrielle pursed her lips in an audible pout and let her chin come to rest against her knees. "I don't know if I can face them, Xena..."

Xena gently placed a hand on Gabrielle's shoulder. "Of course you can! You faced down Callisto, for Zeus' sake. You can face them. You owe them that as their daughter-in-law...and as Perdicus' wife."

"Perdicus' widow..." mumbled the bard. She turned abruptly and looked at Xena. "I was the reason Perdicus died. It should have been me, not him!"

"You can't second guess what happened on that road, Gabrielle. You don't know how many times I've run that scenario in my head, wondering if I could've reacted faster...saved Perdicus...but it all happened very quickly...there wasn't time..." Xena let her voice trail off as memories ran across her face.

Wordlessly, Gabrielle turned Xena's face to meet her own. "Xena, I don't blame you for what happened to Perdicus. I never have."

Xena smiled. "I wish I had your forgiving heart sometimes, Gabrielle."

Gabrielle leaned into her friend and rested her chin on the other's shoulder. "Come

with me to Poteidaia?"

Xena shook her head, "No. You need to do this alone...and I should go home and check on mother; it's long past time for a visit."

"Well, why don't I come back to Amphipolis with you, then? I'd love to see it again."

"Uh huh," came the dubious reply.

"I'd like to see the house where you grew up...and up," Gabrielle chuckled.

"It's not there anymore," said Xena. "It's a market now."

"Oh. Well, I guess you can't go home again..."

"No, but you can shop there," murmured Xena. She waited a beat and said, "Look, Gabrielle, I know you pride yourself on your powers of persuasion, but you're not going to talk me into anything so why don't you just stop trying."

Gabrielle nodded unhappily. "So - we part company for a while."

Xena grinned, "You'll survive," and turned the two quail on the spit. "The time apart will do us both good. And we can meet in Thebes in two weeks. There's an inn on the south side of town called The Fates."

"The Fates," Gabrielle intoned. "I like it."

"It's a dump, but the food is good. All the wagon drivers eat there."

Gabrielle nodded agreement, a forced smile crossing her face. "Thebes in two weeks." She removed one of the quail from the fire and examined it. "A few more minutes I think..."

Xena snatched the remaining quail from the fire and raked it off the stick with her knife. "I like mine rare." She picked at the crackly skin of the bird with her fingers and ravenously stuffed a lump of hot pink flesh into her mouth.

Gabrielle laughed aloud. "And you sayI have no patience!"

Xena chuckled softly and licked her fingers. "I'm hungry!" She cast about absently for the water flask. "You know what would go down well with this...?"

"Ah!" began Gabrielle with effect, "The Oracle of Poteidaia knows all!" She reached behind her and with a flourish produced the wineskin, empty the day before, now plump with dark red wine. Xena arched an eyebrow in pleased surprise, and Gabrielle shrugged. "Hecatia is known for its vineyards, and I know how you like your port. Since our purse was empty, I traded the vendor a story for the wine."

"Must've been a heckuva story..."

"It was," replied the bard dismissively. "Say what you will about Callisto, she's good fodder for bards. That vendor was spellbound."

Xena laughed soundlessly. "Your ingenuity never ceases to amaze me, Gabrielle." Unstopping the wineskin, she offered it, knowing full well the response she would get.

"You know me and wine..." was Gabrielle's polite retort.

Without further delay, Xena upended the wineskin and drank deeply of the port. She wiped her mouth against the back of her hand and settled the open container at her feet. The idea that her friend would go to such lengths to obtain something meant solely for her use warmed her more than the wine. Within a few minutes, the wineskin was a quarter empty, and both quail were picked clean, the bones tossed in the fire to char. "We should get some sleep," said Xena, tossing Gabrielle a blanket. "We both have a long way to travel tomorrow."

Gabrielle spread her blanket and lay down near the fire where the ground was warmed through. Using her pouch as a pillow, she lay on her back staring up at the night sky; the stars were a million frosty, flat eyes in the dark. Sleepily, she looked back over her shoulder and said, "I still wish you were coming with me."

"You'll do fine," Xena replied succinctly. "Goodnight."

Unconvinced, Gabrielle sighed and stared off into the fog-shrouded forest; she was still wondering what she would say to Perdicus' parents when she fell asleep. Xena positioned her sword on the ground by her side and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. She watched her friend for some time, noting the slow, steady rhythm of her breathing, the gentle rise and fall of her chest as sleep claimed her. In the brief time it took for her to remove her armor and gauntlets, Xena reflected that things between she and Gabrielle had never been better. Time was healing the wounds of everything that had happened in the past few weeks, Callisto's murder of Perdicus, her subsequent invasion of Xena's own body; it was all just fodder for bards now, as Gabrielle had said. All these events combined to bring the two travelers closer than they had ever been before. 'Chance had made them companions', Xena observed, 'But Fate had made them sisters.' And today...today had been a good day - carefree, productive; they had covered nearly five full leagues since leaving Hecatia. But their proximity to Poteidaia had brought the shadows back to Gabrielle's face, and the bard's own words echoed in Xena's ears; 'The innocent Gabrielle was gone', but here, in her place asleep by the fire was the woman into whom Gabrielle had grown. Xena had yet to make her own peace with the exchange. She shook herself out of her reverie and, without rising, made one last check of the campsite by eye. Adding another log to the low-burning fire, she pulled her blanket close around her and drifted off into her own fretful sleep a short time later.

In the darkness, at the perimeter of the camp, two pairs of eyes watched the women

intently. "Tomorrow," they whispered, "She is ours."

. "Two weeks - in Thebes," confirmed Gabrielle as she and Xena stood at the crossroads. Nodding, Xena handed her a cloth-wrapped parcel containing bread, hard cheese and fruit, which Gabrielle stowed in her pack. Turning to face her friend, hope twinkling in her eyes, Gabrielle said, "You're sure you won't change your mind and come with me?" She knew the answer before it left Xena's lips.

"No, Gabrielle," retorted Xena as she mounted Argo. "You're always reminding me you're an adult. You can do this. Besides, this is family; I shouldn't get involved."

Gabrielle looked mildly wounded. "I consider you family."

Xena smiled and leaned down, ran her finger along Gabrielle's jawbone and then tweaked her chin between her thumb and forefinger in a rare display of affection. "Let's just pretend **mother**__and **father** wouldn't be thrilled to see this wayward daughter and leave it at that, okay?" She gathered the reins in one hand. "Better be on your way. Tell Lila hello for me."

"The first words out of my mouth," quipped the bard, smiling; it was a well known fact that her younger sister didn't care for Xena one bit. "Take care, Xena. I'll miss you."

"No, you won't," chided Xena over her shoulder as she spurred Argo off at a gallop up the hill.

Gabrielle stood and watched until Xena topped the hill and disappeared from sight. Then with a deep breath, she shouldered her pack and turned briskly on her heels pointed in the general direction of home. It was only a day's walk from the crossroads to her village, less if she utilized one of the many shortcuts she knew. She spent her traveling time practicing with her staff, and rehearsing, ad nauseam, what she would say when she met Perdicus' parents. "Hi, Mom and Dad!" she said cheerfully into the air. "No, that won't do." She cleared her throat and adopted a more serious tone. "Hello. I'm sorry about...No! Arrgh! How about, 'Hello, the wayward daughter-in-law who got your son killed has returned!' Stupid. Stupid," she chanted, pounding her brow with the palm of her hand. "You're the bard: tell the story! Words are your stock in trade!" Gabrielle let out a pent-up breath. "So where are they when I need them?" Better not to worry about it, she thought to herself. Something will come to mind.

"Help."

She froze in mid-stride; it was a man's voice, but when she looked up from her musings, he wasn't readily visible. "Hello?" she called, instinctively bringing her staff across her body in a defensive posture. "Where are you?" She moved forward at a cautious walk, hugging the periphery of the road. She pivoted on her heels, performing a graceful full revolution, senses primed for any signs of danger. But she was not the instinctive being that Xena was. In spite of Xena's warnings about not giving an enemy information he did not already possess, Gabrielle

announced, "I won't hurt you! Please. Show yourself." A slight movement at ground level some twenty paces away caught her eye - the weak, distressed wave of an injured man lying crumpled on the apron of the road.

"Over here..." he moaned.

Gabrielle hesitated; something in the back of her mind screamed at her to be cautious; she recognized the voice as Xena's.

The injured man beckoned again, "Help me, please..."

His voice sounded weaker, more pitiful; it grabbed at Gabrielle's heart and pushed all thoughts of caution aside. She came close and could see that the figure was a young man, in his 20's, holding his head in obvious pain. "What's wrong? Can I help you?" She bent close to get a better look and suddenly the man's hand shot forward, grabbing her around the throat. Gabrielle brought her staff up from underneath, ramming it into his chin and stepped back quickly as the man released her and fell to the ground, blood pouring from his mouth.

'Stupid!' she cursed herself. 'Xena would never have let that happen!' She slung her

pack to the ground and took a defensive stance, watching in horror as a dozen armed men

poured out of the forest to surround her. "Great. I hope this isn't going to be typical of the entire day..."

Momentarily, a hooded figure emerged from the forest and installed himself at the head

of Gabrielle's would-be attackers. "I want her alive."

Gabrielle looked toward the man; she couldn't see his face clearly because of the hood, but something about him seemed familiar. When the man pushed back his hood to reveal a round, ruddy face and small, close eyes, she said, "Don't I know you?"

By way of response, the man looked to the warriors, waggled his fingers and said, "Take her."

Gabrielle snapped the focus of her attention back to the dozen armed men surrounding her. She stood, the peaceful eye at the center of this storm, weaving her staff in a figure eight, pivoting and wheeling as she looked for an exit, but none was to be found. In the next instant, they were upon her. She fought well, employing all her acquired skills and gifts, but the number of assailants combined with their almost inhuman resistance to pain was beginning to exhaust her. Presently, an underlying degree of desperation crept into her movements; she'd gone for the long reach on a couple of attempts, and had the staff knocked from her hands, always recovering it quickly, but nonetheless, much-needed energy had been fruitlessly expended.

"End this!" called the cloaked figure. "But don't kill her."

Breathing hard, Gabrielle parried with her original assailant, who spat blood on the ground and snarled as he waved his sword. She brought up her staff in a roundhouse swing which connected beautifully off the head of a man to her right; she felt the percussion in her wrist and arm before the weapon was wrenched indelicately from her grasp. As two warriors moved in to restrain her, she brought her foot up in a swift arc, landing a paralyzing kick to the groin of one. In the same movement, she pivoted and delivered a crushing blow to the other's nose with the flat of her hand. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the butt of her own staff coming towards her; bright pain exploded behind her eyes and she crumpled to the ground, senseless.

"Idiot!" bellowed the cloaked figure, striking the staff wielder hard across the face. "She was not to be harmed!" He crouched beside the unconscious girl and examined the ugly gash at her left temple. When he had determined that the injury was not fatal, he got to his feet breathing a sigh of relief. Retribution had been months in the planning; every contingency had been taken into account...every contingency but the subject's early demise. 'Morpheus be praised!' he thought, and then aloud, "Now it can begin."

**Chapter II**

'**Home is the warrior home from the war'**

Xena rode through the fields of green wheat that surrounded Amphipolis. The village women, singing as they moved between the rows, took little notice of her. Their voices rose up to meet her ears and as she slowed Argo to a walk, she found herself singing in unison, mouthing long-forgotten harvesting songs. She galloped out of the fields and topped the rise, entering the outskirts of town. She could see the inn her family had owned for two generations, and her stomach knotted up with nervousness. "Stop it!" she admonished aloud, giving voice to her anxieties, but feeling awkward, she turned the dialogue internal. _'You're not __**this**__ nervous when you meet your enemies! She's your mother for Zeus' sake! Mothers can forgive anything...'_

Anything. It had only been a few short weeks since Callisto, in Xena's body, had kidnapped and held hostage almost the entire population of Amphipolis. Gabrielle, after much hesitation, had begrudgingly related the details of the ordeal as explained to her by Cyrene. Although not morally responsible for Callisto's actions, Xena couldn't help but feel guilt and shame for the havoc the witch had wreaked while in her guise. With Herculean effort, she managed to still her nerves as she rode through the village. She reined Argo to a halt in front of the inn. As she dismounted, she could feel many eyes settling on her - some ambivalent, some angry, many fearful, and all with an expression of vague surprise to find her once more in their midst. As she walked the passive gauntlet of stares, she did her best to shut them out. Taking a deep breath, steeling herself for what might happen within its walls, she entered the inn. She paused a moment, letting her eyes adjust to the ambient dimness. The only two patrons seated within looked up as she passed, and the young man sweeping up broken glass met her gaze with a bemused smile. Behind the bar, with her back to Xena, Cyrene was settling a cask into its holder. Hating the timid, tentative feeling inside her, Xena called quietly, "Mother."

Cyrene froze, and then turned at the sound of the voice. "Xena?"

"Yes, it's me. I can prove it if you like," she said, struggling for levity. "Ask me anything..."

"Xena, my little one!" Cyrene rushed out from behind the bar and threw her arms around her daughter. Xena returned the embrace, relieved by the warm reception.

"I didn't know if you'd have me..." she whispered into her mother's ear.

Cyrene held her daughter at arm's length and looked seriously into her azure eyes.

"Whyever not?"

Xena's eyes cast about the room to find the tender reunion of mother and daughter was the center of attention. "Maybe now isn't the best time, mother..."

"Nonsense," replied Cyrene, steering Xena towards a table in the corner of the room.

Seated opposite Xena, Cyrene clasped her daughter's hands tightly. "Talk to me...tell me what's on your mind."

Xena looked at her hands, tanned and strong, entwined in the calloused hands of her mother. Working women. "The last time these hands touched you, they brought pain and fear..."

Cyrene cringed inwardly, remembering the rough hands and the cold, dead eyes that met

hers that day not so long ago. _Just another loving daughter..._ She shivered. Xena, to her credit,

appeared not to notice. "Xena, I remember that the last time my **daughter** touched me, she stroked my hair and kissed my cheek..." Cyrene mirrored these gestures, finally tracing the outline of her daughter's strong jaw with the tips of her fingers. "You are, and always have been, more than the sum of your parts...more than the beautiful vessel for your soul. Whatever the outward trappings, you exist inside."

Stunned, Xena dropped a kiss into her mother's palm. "It's good to be home."

"You're my Little One; you're always welcomed here. You look hungry. Cenon!" she called, and the young boy who had been studiously sweeping the floor when Xena arrived, came instantly to her side. "Bring a flagon of port, and a bowl of that rabbit stew." Cenon all but leapt to the task. "It is still port, isn't it?" Xena nodded. "You must be tired after your journey."

"I am a bit," said Xena, settling back into her chair. "You look good, mother."

"Liar. I don't suppose you've come home to stay?"

"Not this time," replied Xena succinctly.

"Where's Gabrielle? Didn't she come with you?"

"She's visiting her family in Poteidaia," Xena said, choosing her words carefully.

Cyrene, who had a sensitivity for nuances, said, "Why do I feel that there's more than you're telling me?"

"Later, mother, I promise you'll hear everything."

Cyrene patted Xena's hand. "I'll hold you to that. But whatever the reason, I'm glad for the visit. Toris is off helping friends get settled in a neighboring village. I don't expect him back for a month. Confidentially," she whispered, "I don't think life as an innkeeper agrees with him. Like you, there's too much of his father in him to stay in one place too long."

Before Xena could retort, Cenon reappeared bearing a bowl of piping hot stew and a mug. "I'm sorry, but there's no port. Cadmon hasn't delivered today. Is mead all right?"

Xena shrugged and reached for the mug. "All I care is that it's wet."

"Cenon," began Cyrene with a degree of pride, "This is my daughter, Xena."

Cenon smiled broadly. "I knew it." His eyes darted from mother to daughter and back again. "I could tell at once." He hugged the wooden tray to his chest. "I've heard many stories about you."

Inwardly, Xena cringed, outwardly, she was the picture of calm self-assurance. "Hello, Cenon. How's the rabbit stew?"

"Pretty good. But be careful; you'll hurt your eyes." Xena turned up an eyebrow. Cenon elaborated with a smile and a punch line he'd used a dozen times that day, "You'll hurt your eyes looking for the rabbit!"

Cyrene disguised her amusement as it only served to encourage the boy. "Cenon, Xena will be staying with us for a while; go make up the room at the top of the stairs." When the boy had retreated from earshot, she loosed a smile in his direction. "He's a good worker, but he talks far too much. I don't pay him to talk."

"Well, he didn't run screaming and he didn't reach for a sword, so I guess the old stories must be losing their punch."

Cyrene squeezed her daughter's arm. "Perhaps they're just being replaced by more potent material; Gabrielle's stories of your deeds reached us months ago." Xena managed to look relieved and alarmed at the same time. "I'm very proud of you, daughter."

Xena basked in the praise for a moment and washed it down with a swig of mead. "So who's the boy?" she asked. "I don't think I recognize him."

"He's originally from Kepsis. His parents died last year in the plague."

Xena smiled crookedly over her mug. "Still taking in strays, mother?"

"You disapprove?"

"I worry about you," Xena replied simply. "You're so trusting."

"You make that sound like a character flaw, Xena. He's a child after all."

"I've found myself at the mercy of children at one time or another..."

"As have I." Cyrene gave her daughter's hand a possessive pat. "Trust has to begin somewhere, Xena."

Xena absently swirled the mead in her cup. "Why must it begin with you? I'm sorry, mother. I haven't yet shaken the code of the road. I won't bring this attitude into your house again. You have my word on that."

"Eat," ordered Cyrene, putting the matter to rest. "Then we'll get you settled," she said

before returning to her duties at the bar.

Xena sighed contentedly and fixed her gaze on the bowl in front of her, moving its contents around with her spoon. She gave up hopes of finding meat and trapped a chunk of vegetable between her spoon and the bowl. Chewing thoughtfully, she hoped Gabrielle's own visit home had begun as promisingly as hers.

Gabrielle awoke groggily to pitch blackness. She was blindfolded, and her head ached terribly. Her arms, drawn and tied over her head, sang in their sockets and she stood on the balls of her bare feet trying to relieve the strain on them. For the briefest of moments, she was blank

and confused, until she remembered the skirmish on the road, just miles from her home. She wondered just how long she had been unconscious. As she hung there in the close, almost palpable darkness, she could feel a presence at her side. She licked her dry lips and in a raspy voice asked, "Who's there?" Her voice echoed back, her inquiry unanswered. But she was sure there was at least one other person in the room with her, first at her right, then at her left, then standing before her, warm breath in her face, a rough thumb running across her parched lips; she recoiled at its touch.

"Welcome, Gabrielle."

The voice, smooth yet strong, silken and granite - even after all this time she knew it at once. "Manus."

"I hoped you hadn't forgotten me."

Finding her voice, weaker than she preferred, Gabrielle quipped, "A girl never forgets her first jailer."

"So we've come full circle," he replied. "You must know it's not by accident."

"What do you want from me?"

At her ear, in her space, "All in good time...but first, I want you to become accustomed to your surroundings," he hissed, his voice wrapping her in an icy chill.

"I won't be staying."

"Feisty to the end, I see, and delusional in the bargain. Well, I wouldn't hold out any hopes of imminent rescue by the redoubtable Warrior Princess. Your prison is escape proof, in the great tradition of The Impregnable Fortress. Not even Xena can save you now."

Under her blindfold, Gabrielle's eyes narrowed. "Now who's delusional?"

"This is the limit of your world, Gabrielle." When he spoke again, he was some distance away, and his whispered words were not directed to her, but to a third party in the room. Gabrielle strained to hear their conversation. "I'm disappointed in you, Hesperos..."

"Yes, Lord..." Hesperos mumbled, resigned and dejected.

"I ask you to bring me one innocent, defenseless bard...how hard could that be?"

"Lord, she wasn't all that defenseless; she bested a half dozen of my men before being subdued...she -"

"It was a rhetorical question, Hesperos. Neither Morpheus nor I are impressed by your excuses. If you weren't an integral part of my plan...well, you know what your fate would be. Disappoint me again -"

"Yes, Lord Manus. I understand."

"Of course, you do. Now, make known to Anthor his duties. She's not to sleep. If I sense her on the dreamplane before I am ready for her, both your lives are forfeit." Instantly, Manus' lips were at Gabrielle's ear again. "I hope you will enjoy your stay with us."

Even as his words hung in the air, the blindfold was wrenched away from Gabrielle's eyes, but neither Manus nor his toadie, Hesperos, was anywhere to be found. Gabrielle blinked the room into focus, and then wished she hadn't. The room, no room at all but a cavern, painted blood red and she was suspended from its ceiling, her hands bound by silken ropes. In the torchlight, she could make out a beefy guard bearing a pike, standing against a wall which bore an array of instruments of torture: thumb screws, blades of all sizes, mallets, chains, and a number of articles who's purpose was left to her very vivid imagination. She shivered, despite the oppressive heat in the cavern and looked down to see that she was clothed only in a light shift which clung to her body, soaked with perspiration. "Anthor? Is that your name?" The guard blinked impassively. Gabrielle fought off the urge to scream at him. "Look, Anthor, you're in so much hot water I can't begin to tell you..." Salty droplets stung the corners of her eyes and she wiped them awkwardly against her shoulder. "Does the name 'Xena' ring a bell?" Anthor pulled a stool close and sat down, resting the pike against his knee. He seemed impervious, or ignorant of Gabrielle's veiled threat. Without taking his eyes from her, he reached for the iron crank on the floor by his feet and turned it one half revolution. As he did so, Gabrielle could hear the chain

above her head rattle in its pulley, and seconds later, she was dangling inches above the cavern floor. Her shoulders strained in their sockets as her feet lost all purchase on the floor; the resulting wave of dizziness forced a moan from her throat. "Xena," she whispered, tasting

salt on her lips, "If I ever needed you, I need you now."

Ever mindful of the penalty for dereliction of duty, Anthor rose and filled a bucket from a water barrel and approached the girl. He could see plainly that she was on the verge of passing out and his simple mind associated that with sleep. He drew back the bucket and pitched it

forward in an arc with great vigor.

"Wake up."

Xena sputtered and spat out a mouthful of warm water. Cyrene sat laughing on the corner of the tub as the water rolled off her very surprised daughter. "I'm awake! I'm awake!." Xena wiped the water from her eyes with the back of her hand. "You know, I knew you were there all along..."

"Uh huh."

"Just a little old for such pranks, aren't you, mother?"

Cyrene good naturedly thumped the empty bucket in her lap. "You can't sleep in the hot tub all afternoon."

"You'd be surprised, mother. I have many skills."

Cyrene tossed her a towel. "Dry yourself. Come for a walk with me by the lake. I have to check the lines."

"I checked the lines this morning," said Xena as she patted her face dry. "We caught nearly two dozen perch, and half that many trout..."

"I have hungry patrons, daughter dear!"

Xena smiled at her mother. "Alright, give me a minute to dress. I'll join you at the big oak." Clicking her tongue in satisfaction, Cyrene left the bath house, swinging the empty bucket

in a casual arc. Xena rose, dried herself and dressed quickly. It had been four days since she had left Gabrielle at the crossroads and things had gone better than she expected at home. She had settled into a comfortable routine at the inn. Rising at dawn, she helped her mother prepare breakfast for the guests, waited tables and did the daily marketing. The townspeople, though not overtly warm towards her, had treated her kindly, with a semblance of civility she knew she had no right to expect. As she made her way towards the stand of oaks where her mother waited, she fastened the last button on the soft blue dress she wore, enjoying the way its modest lines clung to her curves, accentuating her femininity. She could almost forget that as battle dress it offered nothing in the way of protection. Her mother waved to her and Xena broke into a trot to lessen the space between them. Together they started down a well-traveled dirt path, straw baskets in hand.

"If I didn't already tell you," said Cyrene, slipping an arm around her daughter's waist, "It's good to have you home."

Xena shifted her basket to the other hand so she might return her mother's hug. "You told me, about a dozen times...and it's good to **be** home. I didn't realize how much I missed it... and you." She gazed at the fruit bearing trees, the blue sky thick with birds and the children playing near the bank of the river. "So much life..." she murmured, and her face clouded over.

Cyrene was immediately sensitive to her daughter's change of mood. "Xena, what's wrong?"

"Mother," she began, her gaze fixed on the dirt path before her. "I know I may not always show it, but it means everything to me that you're here to come home to. It would be easy for you to hate me, to shut me out...it would be the popular thing to do."

"Stop it!" Cyrene stopped in her tracks and turned to face Xena. "I won't hear that

kind of talk. I don't tolerate it from my patrons, my neighbors or my friends, and I won't hear it from you." She cupped her daughter's cheek in one hand and looked at her fondly. "Xena," she began patiently. "Let the past lie."

Xena gazed seriously into her mother's eyes; in them, she found a reflection of herself. "Sometimes that's easier said than done, mother."

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to dredge up bad memories for you."

Xena shrugged, "Not that it means much, but they don't have far to come to break the surface." She started down the path again, drawing her mother beside her. "Gabrielle keeps telling me that I can't expect forgiveness from others until I'm ready to forgive myself."

Cyrene smiled. "Wise words for one so young."

"Not so young as you might think, mother," replied Xena cryptically, and left it at that.

As they neared the river's edge and Xena left her side to haul in the fishing lines, Cyrene reflected that she very much approved of the change in her daughter. Some of the hard edges had blunted, and her smile, though rarely bestowed, was as brilliant as ever. It had been two full years since Xena had left Amphipolis, and although they had parted on good terms, Cyrene had always doubted that her daughter would return home again of her own volition. How pleased she was to be so utterly wrong. And she knew, with absolute certainty, that the majority of change in Xena was due to her friendship with Gabrielle. In the company of the young bard, Xena had found unconditional love and acceptance, a willing receptacle for her measureless guilt, and a bottomless faith that defied reason. If she couldn't convince her daughter to remain in the village with her, Cyrene was comforted to know that at least she would be in good company on the road.

A half hour later, they arrived back at the inn, laden down with baskets of trout, perch and carp. Cenon met them at the door and relieved both women of their baskets. Peering over Cenon's shoulder, Xena could see that there was a respectable crowd gathered in the main room of the inn. "Doesn't anyone **cook** anymore?"img src=" p?c1=8&c2=2102&c3=0&c4=&c5=&c6=&c15=&c16=&cv=2.0&cj=1" /


	2. Chapter 2

**Sleeping with the Enemy**

**Chapter 2, 3, 4**

**Deanlu & Roo**

**Dedicated to Renee O'Connor **

**Disclaimer: ****The characters in Xena: Warrior Princess are the property of MCA/Universal and Renaissance Pictures. No copyright infringement is intended. This fan fiction may be copied for personal use only, may not be sold, and must contain all notices of copyright. **

**Acknowledgments: ****The authors of this story wish to thank the following individuals: Atalanta, Anon. for their more than occasional constructive input; gratuitous thanks to XWPWarrioress, executive story consultant; EMartin(toao) for the cover concept and design; and Mit18 for her selfless work at the presentation of this manuscript. Thank you.**

**Copyright 1997 "Two Bards Writing". This work may not be reproduced and sold without expressed written permission of the authors herein. **

Cenon leaned in and whispered, "Lysandra's performing; she always gets a good crowd."

Cyrene gave Cenon a sideways look. "But are they eating and drinking, Cenon? Are they ordering from the kitchen?"

Cenon smiled and nodded. "Ravenous as lions, Cyrene, and drinking like fish!"

Cyrene beamed in satisfaction and shooed Cenon into the kitchen. Turning to Xena she said, "I had hoped to surprise you. Come," she took her daughter by the elbow. "Come listen."

Standing at the center of the crowd she had drawn, was a young woman no older than 15 and yet she held the assembly rapt as she vividly spun her tale.

"_In dreams she walks, she knows not where,_

_She calls out in fear, for someone to hear_

_But no response does she receive,_

_Only the endless passage of life's dreams _

_Echo back hauntingly_

_Taunting her heart and soul_

_Where is the peace she once had found?_

_Where is the answer to the confusion she feels?_

_Lost within the void_

_Where dreams soar on the gilded tips _

_Of Morpheus' fingers." _

Xena moved to join her mother behind the bar. She was spellbound as was the crowd, but while they erupted in well-deserved applause, her countenance remained fixed, her own hands at her sides, still. Cyrene leaned close and whispered, "Her name's Lysandra. She arrived two days ago; she offered to perform in exchange for a room."

"Another stray, mother?"

"I could hardly turn her out, Xena, a young girl like that...but she is good, isn't she?"

Acquiescing, Xena gave a small nod. "She's good." She listened intently as the young bard began to weave a tale of avarice, betrayal and retribution, the players in which, although disguised, were achingly familiar to her. "I can't help but be struck by her choice of material," she said pointedly.

"She told me she sometimes uses Gabrielle's stories as inspiration." Cyrene set a half dozen mugs on a tray and filled them from a pitcher of wine. "She's late today. She's normally here during the afternoons, while you're minding the traps. I'm so pleased you have the chance to hear her stories. I thought it might be like having a little bit of Gabrielle with you." Cenon appeared on the other side of the bar and slid the tray into his hands, nimbly navigating the close quarters to deliver the round of drinks. Cyrene appreciated his speed and conscientiousness. "Cenon's been a great help to me. Business triples every time Lysandra performs."

"I can see why; she's very gifted," Xena conceded.

Cyrene arched an eyebrow. "But she's no Gabrielle." She squeezed Xena's arm. "You miss her."

Xena let out a pent up breath and at last moved her eyes from the bard to her mother.

"It's..." she began, struggling for articulation. "It's like a part of me is missing...like being half awake."

Cyrene gave her a daughter of look of profound surprise. "Xena, such eloquence from my

warrior child..."

Xena reddened. "Blame Gabrielle."

"No. I like it."

"I'll tell her you said as much. Anyway, I think we both needed the time apart." Her sharp eyes caught the frantic gesticulations of a bar patron as he tried to hail her for service.

"Yo! Miss!"

Xena tried to restrain the urge to roll her eyes and took up an empty tray. "Xena: Warrior

Waitress," she quipped and turned to tend to the patron's order.

**Chapter III**

'**The Plan Unfolds...'**

_mesmerbarruchdolasliniusboriasagaliarheabitonmarcustaluslyceusambrusfarrisalyssap_

_hoebostermincallistovaratheodoruscletusgilles..._Gabrielle clamped her hands over her ears and squeezed her eyes closed in a futile attempt to shut out the incessant murmur that had assaulted her consciousness, penetrated the core of her being for...how long had it been? In the confines of this tiny cage within the stifling heat of the cavern, time had ceased to have meaning. Had it been days? she mused. Yes. Definitely...at least one day, perhaps two...she hadn't closed her eyes in sleep in two days._ mesmerbarruchdolasliniusboriasagaliarheabitonmarcustaluslyceusambrus farrisalyssaphoebostermincallistovaratheodoruscletus gilles..._ "By the gods," she moaned, "Please...please make it stop..." She lay exhausted on the floor of the cage which hung suspended a full fifty feet above the cavern floor. Peering down at the gurgling red cauldron of lava below, a recent addition and a nice touch, she conceded, she began to have profound doubts that she would ever leave the cavern alive. After all, no one outside of Manus and his cronies knew she was here. Xena believed her to be safe in Poteidaia with her family, and her family didn't know to expect her home. She closed her eyes in utter exhaustion. At the edge of consciousness, amidst the din of indiscernible voices, she heard a chain rattle, clinking endlessly over its pulley and then she felt the cage descending at a dizzying velocity until it rested on the cavern floor. She thought she heard the cage door swing open, but couldn't summon the strength of confirm the suspicion.

Momentarily, she felt a strong hand supporting her neck and the rim of a cup pressed against her lips.

"Drink," ordered a voice, gravelly from disuse. "Drink," he repeated, sensing her apprehension. "It's only water."

Thirst won out over caution and Gabrielle drank deeply, without opening her eyes. _Oh, please, gods, let this be a nightmare_, she thought, tepid water sliding down her dry throat._ If I open my eyes slowly, it'll be Xena sitting here beside me...please, sweet Athena, let this be a nightmare..._Her fingers brushed those holding the cup to her and tentatively she opened her eyes

to find Anthor, and not Xena, squatting beside her; the compassionate look on his otherwise unremarkable face emboldened her to ask, "Anthor, what does Manus want with me?" Her own voice, raspy, not much more than a whisper. Anthor parted his lips, as if to reply, then ripped the cup from her hands with undue ferocity, as if he despised himself for this momentary lapse into humanity. Gabrielle sat up, gripping the condensation-slick bars for support. "Why doesn't he just kill me and be done with it?" Anthor slammed shut the cage door and moved once again towards the crank in the floor. "Anthor, wait!" she cried and got to her knees. "Just tell me why!"

"Why?"

Gabrielle started. It was Manus, standing at the foot of the cage; she hadn't even seen him enter. "How do you**do**that?!"

"One question at a time," he replied, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Even in his heavy robes, he seemed impervious to the waves of heat rolling off the lava pit. Manus looked at Anthor, waggled his fingers, bidding him to continue with his actions. As Anthor raised the cage, Manus expounded, and as he spoke, the endless litany that had plagued her waking hours gradually faded to an annoying murmur at the edge of conscious perception. "I hold no ill feelings towards you, child. I simply want what is mine."

Summoning her strength, Gabrielle retorted, "This is a guy thing, isn't it?" She kept her gaze centered on him as she fought to remain lucid; her body cried out for rest and nourishment, but she knew she had to stay focused if she stood any chance at all of escaping. "If this is about

Morpheus..."

"It is. And it isn't," he said cryptically. "Of course, Morpheus was quite displeased with the end results of your first visit to us. You had such potential. We had such high hopes."

"Get over it," she quipped. "I wouldn't kill then, and I won't kill now. Can't you give this revenge thing a rest?"

Manus smiled, showing a little too much canine to be taken seriously. "Now what kind of person would I be if I only lived that philosophy eight hours a day?" He made a steeple of his fingers and pressed them to his lips, considering her as he moved about the outside of the cage.

"No, as I said, I bear you no ill will; you were merely a bystander in the injustice inflicted upon me. I reserve my animosity for those who played a more integral part in my exile into the dreamscape...that sanctimonious old mystic, Elkton..." He stopped and looked down at her. "And Xena." He read the terror in her eyes; Manus could recognize terror better than anyone else. "Because of them I have spent the last two years confined to this netherworld," he gestured expansively with his hands, and for the first time Gabrielle noticed that although she was suspended in the cage far above the cavern floor, Manus moved about freely, without visible support.

"Is that where I am?" she asked, her jaw working reflexively, "...the dreamscape?"

"No, child. As you can see," he pinched the back of her hand hard and she yanked it from the bars with a small yelp of pain. "- it's quite real."

Gabrielle was skeptical. "You were banished to the dreamscape. How can you be here?"

"With comparative ease, child. We are between sleep and wakefulness, that delicious twilight where mind and body hover on the edge of consciousness. I am able to cross to and from the dreamscape at will, but only for brief periods of time. In those moments when I am unable to be at your side, I have employed other means to hold your attention."

"You mean Anthor...and those...voices...who are they?" She cast about the room. "More tenants?"

Manus loosed a hollow laugh. "Oh, the voices are not of my making, but your own."

As if on cue, there arose the chorus _mesmerbarruchdolasliniusboriasagaliarheabitonmar_

_custaluslyceusambrusfarrisalyssaphoebostermincallistovaratheodoruscletusgilles... _"Listen to them...I'm convinced the young do far too much talking and not nearly enough listening..." _mesmerbarruchdolasliniusboriasagaliarheabitonmarcustaluslyceusambrusfarrisalyssaphoebo_

_stermincallistovaratheodoruscletusgilles_. "They speak to you, Gabrielle..."

Gabrielle clasped her fingers behind her head and covered her ears, squeezing her eyes shut, willing the voices to be silent. "I...I don't understand what you want from me..." she cried.

_mesmerbarruchdolasliniusboriasagaliarheabitonmarcustaluslyceusambrusfarrisalyssaphoeboste rmincallistovaratheodoruscletusgilles._ Rocking back and forth, lost within the misery that had become her life, she chanted, "I..I can't...I can't..."

"You can," countered Manus. _mesmerbarruchdolasliniusboriasagaliarheabitonmarcusta_

_luslyceusambrusfarrisalyssaphoebostermincallistovaratheodoruscletusgilles. _"Open your mind and listen...with their words, all will become clear."_ mesmerbarruchdolasliniusboroasagaliarh eabitonmarcustalusambrusfarrisalyssaphoebostermincallistovaratheodoruscletugilles..._

Gabrielle's eyes opened, mere slits at first. She unclasped her fingers, whiteknuckles quickly grew pink with blood. As she moved into a sitting position, the voices...the names became distinct... and familiar._ Mesmer. Barruch. Dolas. Linius. Borias. Agalia. Rhea. Biton. Marcus. Talus. Ambrus. Farris. Alyssa. Phoebos. Termin. Callisto. Vara. Theodorus. Cletus. Gilles._ "Ah, I see at last a glint of recognition in your eyes. You hear at last..." said Manus, breaking into a pleased grin. "A roll call of death...Mesmer. Barruch. Termin - her first...Theodorus, Callisto's lieutenant...yes, possession aside, we count him as one of her victims. And the list grows daily. Marcus, her lover. Talus...what would he have been to you, I wonder, if not for her?" Gabrielle's eyes narrowed in seeming comprehension. Manus could barely contain himself. "Oh, yes, she used you, Gabrielle, like so many others in her wake."

"No," she rebuked, shaking her head. "No, it wasn't like that. Xena's not like that!"

_Mesmer. Barruch. Dolas. Linius. Borias. Agalia. Rhea. Biton. Marcus. Talus. Ambrus. Farris. Alyssa. Phoebos. Termin. Callisto. Vara. Theodorus. Cletus. Gilles..._to her utmost horror, the list while gaining clarity and volume grew in capacity._ Phantes. Lyceus. Perdicus. M'Lila. Kepa. Cadmon. Fedor. Philamond. Ephiny. Melosa. Neola. Pandora. Orion. Diana. Lila. _"No!" she screamed. "No. I don't believe you!"

"She used you then as she continues to use you now. Do you see yourself as her friend? Can you possibly be that stupid, I wonder? Surely not. Then, perhaps, you play the willing role of squire; you cook, tend her horse, mend her clothes, wash the blood from her wounds. But

the truth...and you **should **hear the truth...is that she sees you as nothing more than a tagalong, a stone around her neck."

"That's a lie," she countered through her tears.

"Think, Gabrielle." He was close enough now to tap her brow with his forefinger, emphasizing his words. "Think. Wasn't it her idea you separate? She insisted that you set out alone on this journey. She didn't even offer to escort you to Poteidaia. Are those the actions of a

caring, loving friend? No. You could be dead for all she knows...or cares. How many have died at her hands? How many more will die because she failed to act?" _Cadmon. Fedor. Philamond. Ephiny. Melosa. Neola. Pandora. Orion. Diana. Lila._ "Names and faces... human beings who, until her advent into their lives, had families, hopes and dreams. Hear them, Gabrielle." Not a request or a suggestion, but a flat command.

"Nooooo!" screamed Gabrielle, challenging the voices for dominion of her conscience and soul. Her exclamation still ringing off the cavern walls, the voices died and lay to rest in silence. Her head lolled forward like that of a child's rag doll, her body collapsing in on itself, as if spent of air and energy. Perspiration mingled freely with tears and fell unimpeded through the bars of the cage.

Manus' keen ears picked out the satisfying sizzle as each droplet met the gurgling lava below. He reached into the cage and stroked the damp red hair, almost lovingly, as a father would soothe a distressed child. "Submit. Submit and it ends here," he crooned, speaking in warmly seductive tones. Under his hand, her head did not move, nor did she utter a sound. The same hand that had so gently ministered now closed into a fist, catching a handful of hair in its grasp. "I can help you," he said, pulling her head back until he could see her face clearly.

Her eyes were closed, and her face, save for the obvious signs of exhaustion, was otherwise expressionless. For a moment, he feared he had pushed too hard too quickly, and then she took a frantic gulp of air, like a swimmer breaking the surface; he expelled a breath of his own in its wake. "I can help you, Gabrielle. I **want** to help you." He loosened his painful grip on her hair and slid his hand down her jawline to her chin, raising her face up to meet his. "Submit, and you can have peace."

Reluctantly, Gabrielle returned Manus' gaze; he was beaming benevolently down at her in his best savior-father-figure smile. She wanted to look away, to spare herself his toothy hypocrisy, but instead, with the last ounce of defiance left in her aching, exhausted body, she

narrowed her eyes at him and spat, hitting him deftly in the right eye. Even as it dribbled down his face, she knew she had at last made an enemy of him.

Manus clicked his tongue and shook his head sadly, patiently wiping the spittle from his face with the voluminous arm of his robe. "That bit of insolence cost you more than you know, little one." He straightened and drifted back from the cage and as he did so, Gabrielle thought he looked suddenly worn, exhausted; she was inwardly pleased to have had this effect on the man. "I'll leave you to contemplate the wrong decision you have made," he was saying. "But I won't have you wait alone." With an airy wave of his hand, the voices returned and that same now-familiar litany echoed in the cavern, but secondary this time, to another, deeper sound... rhythmic, basal, strangely comforting... "Generous man that I am, I will grant you a metronome to mark the minutes as they pass. You have but to call my name for me to appear."

Gabrielle summoned a temerity she didn't know she possessed. "Never."

"Oh, child," he said, and his face almost kind, "You will call for me...you will."

**Chapter IV**

'**Looking into the abyss'**

Xena awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright in her bed, drenched in perspiration, a deep sense dread replacing the rapidly fading details of the dream. She threw back the thin blanket which clung to her uncomfortably and rose from the bed. As she moved unsteadily across

the room, she wondered briefly if she were ill, but she knew the rhythms of her own body so well that this seemed unlikely. She poured water into a basin and splashed her face and then leaned heavily on the table, cool water coursing down the contours of her face, the hollow of her

throat. She caught her reflection in the small mirror above the table and said aloud, "I have to go." She'd been restless for a couple of days and now something was pulling her inexorably back to the road. She had never been a slave to her muse; war, as art, was a concept few could embrace with any genuine understanding. And more often than not, she delighted in denying those sometimes overwhelming impulses to act, or not to act. But today...today the muse would win. As she dressed, not in the flattering blue peasant dress, but in her well-worn leathers, she tried to think of a gentle way to break the news to her mother. Things had gone so well between them on this visit. Her mother, Cenon, the townspeople...each had gone out of their way to make her feel at home. She would never again dread riding through the narrow village streets, or arriving unannounced on the threshold of the family inn. Amphipolis was again her home, and she was free...and welcome...to come and go at will. And now it was time to go. She would tell her mother now, and leave before noon. With some hard riding, she might reach Poteidaia by nightfall and surprise Gabrielle. Leaving her armor and weapons hanging from pegs on her wall, she went downstairs to the tavern.

Leaning against the back of the cage, with her knees drawn up against her chest, Gabrielle suffered the heat, exhaustion and thirst in relative silence. She found that with effort, she was able to shut out a great deal of the ambient noise in the room - the persistent murmur of voices, Anthor's guttural snoring - all receded into a dark corner of her consciousness. At the moment, Manus' promised metronome was no more than a muffled base, rising from the cavern floor, thrumming through the iron bars of the cage, and thence into her own frame...and yet, it was nothing with which she felt she couldn't deal. She ran her tongue over her dry lips and settled her head against her knees, determined to mine some sleep from her exhausted body.

"Gabrielle."

The bard responded incoherently without opening her eyes.

The voice persisted, "Gabrielle...it's me..."

"Oh, please..." she murmured into her lap. "Just five minutes more..."

"You may not have five minutes. Wake up and look at me...and let me hear you say you love me just once more..."

Gabrielle's eyelids fluttered reluctantly over her tired eyes. "Oh...hello, Perdicus," she murmured; his pleasant features blurred around the edges. "Am I dreaming?"

"Does it matter? You know the saying: when you think of the dead, the dead hear you."

"Yes," she replied, coming more fully awake to find him a solid presence standing before her. "Yes, Perdicus. I've thought of you often."

Perdicus squatted outside the cage and caught Gabrielle's fingers in his own. "I know. There are some days I hear your voice in my head and it never ceases." His free hand reached through the bars and wiped a smudge of dirt from her chin. "I hear your voice and it's almost more than I can stand." He tightened his grip on her hand and licked his lips. "By the gods, I've missed your smile, your voice...your smell..."

Gabrielle wrinkled her nose. "Perdicus, I smell like..."

"Roses," he breathed. "Sweet, white, perfect roses...like the ones that grew outside my mother's house. Do you remember?"

Gabrielle closed her eyes and leaned her head against the bars in a vain attempt to get closer to him. "Yes, I remember."

"And do you remember our wedding night?" She nodded and sighed in response. Perdicus lowered his voice until it was a smoky whisper. "How can I know you so well after just one night? I remember everything..." He caught strands of her hair in his hand. "You wore white, and a laurel wreath with tiny white flowers...and my heart...I thought it would break you were so beautiful..."

Gabrielle silenced his reminiscence, laying a finger across his lips, the same perfect lips she had kissed on their wedding night. "Please, stop..." she sobbed. "I can't bear to remember..."

"No, Gabrielle!" he admonished passionately. "Embrace the memories. I thank the gods for mine. In the beginning, I thought it was a curse, now I can look back on that night and see how I once had it fine, and perfect...how you once loved me."

"I still love you..."

"Do you really?"

Gabrielle's brow furrowed. "Perdicus, of course I do! You're in my heart."

"Then prove it. Do something for me."

She pulled her legs beneath her and looked at him in earnest. Her hands anxiously fretted at the bars of her jail as she breathed intensity into verbal surrender. "Anything."

"Survive. Do what you have to leave this place, whatever it takes..."

Gabrielle shook her head. "Perdicus, you don't know what he wants...he wants me to -"

"Then do it!" He took her face in his hands and looked fervently into her eyes. "As badly as I've missed you, as much as I love you, and want to be with you, I know that it's not your time." He stroked her lips with the ball of his thumb. "I won't have you back under these circumstances. It's not fair to you. You deserve to live a full, rich life...you deserve a future with children, and memories, and captive audiences..." He kissed her through the bars without delay.

"Live for me, Gabrielle," he whispered as he released her. "Do this one thing for me..." He rose and moved away from the cage, all the while keeping his eyes fixed on hers. "Live for me..."

His words faded even as his body lost mass and color until all she could see was the memory of him, and then, not even that.

"Live for me..." she murmured, her eyes suddenly introspective._ Live for you...Perdicus,_

_I will. _

"Good morning, mother."

Cyrene looked up from her work, took note of her daughter's apparel but tried not to let her distress show on her face. "Good morning, Xena," she said brightly and turned her attentions back towards the pot she was scrubbing. "You slept late; that's unusual for you."

"Yeah, well..." she muttered, trying to sweep aside the issue. "Did Cenon bring anything by for me? A package?"

"I haven't seen him this morning," replied Cyrene absently. "Should I send Petros to look for him?"

"No, it's nothing that can't wait," Xena said simply. "What can I do to help? The marketing? I noticed last night that we were out of chicken and salt pork..."

"We have lamb to see us through till tomorrow," Cyrene replied pointedly. "Notus brought

by one of his ewes early this morning. Did you - " she began delicately. "- have a late night with Notus?"

"Ooh, nice segue, mother," crooned Xena appreciatively. Every night since her arrival in Amphipolis, the farmer, Notus, had been a constant presence at the supper table; he would arrive conveniently at dusk, just in time to dine with them, and stay long into the night. Xena found his company pleasant, but nothing more, much to her mother's chagrin. "No, mother. As a matter of fact, he left shortly after you went up to bed."

Cyrene turned, wiping her hands on a towel. "Oh?" she said innocently.

Xena laughed aloud. "A blatant attempt at matchmaking, mother."

Cyrene placed her hands flat on the bar. "So where's the harm? You're a beautiful, young woman. Notus has his own farm, his own vineyard, and nearly one hundred head of sheep."

"If you tell me he makes his own tunics -"

"And he's quite handsome, don't you think?"

Xena considered a moment. "As men go, yes, he's handsome." She drew a stool up to the bar and proceeded to dry some newly-washed mugs and flagons. "Mother, we've talked about this..."

Cyrene became animated. "Did he tell you he has plans to expand his farm?"

"Yeah. He worked it in. Twice. Casually." Xena reflected that Notus did not excel at casual conversation. "If you think he has such potential, why don't you marry him?"

Cyrene reached across the bar and stilled her daughter's hands with her own. "Xena," she began seriously. "I just don't want to see you alone."

Xena blinked, waited a beat and replied, "But I'm not alone, mother. I have Gabrielle. Speaking of which..."

"You're leaving," said Cyrene, cutting her off. She turned away and once again began scrubbing the pot. "I thought you were enjoying your visit home."

"I was. I am!" retorted Xena defensively. "But you know me - not one to let the grass grow beneath my feet." Her mother's dead silence was a cutting retort. Xena felt compelled to rise and join her behind the bar. "Mother," she began. "Mother, please look at me."

Determined to keep the emotional upper hand, Cyrene set the pot aside and leisurely dried her hands on a towel before turning to face her daughter, but as she gazed into those fathomless blue eyes, her resolve faltered. "Xena, I had hopes...foolish hopes, I realize now, that you might stay this time. Every morning I held my breath, waiting for you to descend those stairs and tell me you were leaving...and every morning you surprised me...nine mornings..."

Xena rolled her eyes, "Mother, don't make me feel guilty. You're too good at it. I told you when I first arrived that I wouldn't be staying..."

Cyrene lay a hand gently alongside her daughter's cheek. "I'm jealous of everything that takes you away from me...freedom, adventure...yes, even Gabrielle."

Xena lay her own hand atop her mother's and brushed her lips lightly against her mother's palm. "Mother, you know you have my heart. I'll always come home."

**Chapter V**

'**The one that broke the centaur's back'**

"Focus, Gabrielle..." she told herself. Every sound, every movement outside the small cage was a distraction. Manus' metronome - deep, resonant pulses, bouncing off the cavern floor, stuttering off the walls in a staccato assault on her senses, her eardrums, her skin - there wasn't a part of her that didn't scream out for silence. "I can do this..." she muttered, eyes closed, breathing in long, deep breaths through her mouth. It was purely by chance, while trying to employ one of Xena's meditation techniques that she discovered that the heartbeat filling the cavern was her own, pulled straight out of her chest, reflected and amplified with devastating effect. The source identified, she had immediately begun the difficult process of controlling the intensity and frequency of the assault. "Focus...in...out...in..." deep breaths, willing her heart to slow, to steady its rhythm...amazingly, it complied, its meter now a tolerable speed and volume. Tears slipped down the blade of her nose; to have played a part, even a small part in her own rescue was immensely satisfying. Success bolstered her morale, and inspired her to wage yet another offensive on the cage lock, which, to Gabrielle's astonishment, sprang fully open after a few minutes of intense banging and jiggling. "By the gods..." she murmured, swinging the door open. "I can't believe it..."

"Given any thought as to how you're gonna get down from there?"

Gabrielle's heart leapt at the sound of the voice...so familiar...so wry...so timely...

"Xena!" she cried, and got hurriedly to her feet, sending the cage into a slight swinging spin. "Xena! Thank the gods you're here!"

On the ground, beside the warrior, Anthor lay unconscious, his bulky frame curled into an uncharacteristic ball. "Hang on. I'll have you down in a second." Xena's strong arms moved the crank with ease and when the cage was within a foot of the cavern floor, Gabrielle leapt from its confines, sprawling in a dirty, exhausted heap at Xena's feet. Momentarily, two hands gripped her shoulders like a vise and hauled her roughly into a standing position. "The predicaments you get yourself into..."

Gabrielle laughed with nervous relief. "I had some help this time," she said and went to hug her friend, who stepped back, putting space between them. "Hey, I know I'm a sight. Nothing a bath and a week's sleep won't cure." Xena's stare was cold, her face set in a grim mask

of disgust that Gabrielle had no trouble recognizing. "Xena, what's wrong?"

"This scenario is getting old, Gabrielle."

Gabrielle's brow furrowed. "Excuse me?"

Xena put her hands on her hips and made a slow circuit round the disheveled bard. "How many times have we been here? You in some dire trouble. Me coming to the rescue." Xena moved to where Anthor lay unconscious; she prodded him with the toe of her boot, and then regarded Gabrielle expectantly. "How many times?"

Gabrielle's response was a wounded whisper, "I've lost count."

"At least you're honest." Without missing a beat, Xena drew her sword and thrust it

once into the unconscious man's chest. From somewhere to her left, Gabrielle emitted a

startled gasp. Xena turned to face her, sword at her side, sword point dripping blood. "What?"

Gabrielle's heartbeat, already fast, became frantic, and once again intrusive in the midst of this strangely callous and poorly-timed sermon. "Xena," she said, shaking her head, "Why? Why did you kill him?"

"This man is dead because of **you**," retorted Xena, approaching, leaving a trail of crimson droplets in her wake. She tilted her head and regarded the young bard with a vague sense of surprise. "Don't tell me you didn't know I would kill him. You got me here knowing full well

that someone was going to die." With a flick of her wrist, she brought the blade to Gabrielle's throat in one swift movement. "Someone always dies." Savoring the terror on the girl's face, Xena caught the hem of Gabrielle's shift and nonchalantly wiped the blood from her blade.

"Xena...I...I don't...I don't understand...I thought we were friends..."

"Oh, please!" Xena threw her head back and laughed. "Your decision to follow me to

Amphipolis was never, for one minute, motivated by friendship." She resheathed her sword in one of those graceful, casual movements she performed without thinking. "No. It was the opportunity to leave Poteidaia that intrigued you, and you didn't care how you managed it."

"That's not true!"

"Be honest with yourself, Gabrielle. I was a means to an end, nothing more."

"Xena, I don't know what's making you act this way, but you're scaring me. Please," Gabrielle appealed, only to be abruptly pushed aside. "Xena," she stammered, her eyes brimming with tears. "You're my best friend I love you."

"Never!" Xena wheeled and struck her across the face with such force that Gabrielle stumbled and fell backwards against the wall. Momentarily, Xena collected her thoughts and said in measured tones, "Don't you **ever** say those words to me again." She paced, hugging the periphery of the cavern, and when she spoke again, her voice was expressionless. "Early

in our travels together you appointed yourself my conscience, my moral barometer. I never asked you to save me. I never wanted to be **saved **by you. Your petty proclamations of faith, loyalty and love offend me, they really do."

The sheer venom with which Xena's words were being hurled at her wounded Gabrielle more than had the physical blow; she sank to the ground and buried her head in her hands, sobbing.

"I've gone about as far as I care to with you, Gabrielle." Xena crouched down beside the girl, searching for just the right tone of voice to deliver her coup de grace. "You don't have to

wade through any subtext here, Gabrielle. I'll say it straight out so your tired little pea brain will understand: we're finished...as friends and as traveling companions...find your own way from now on."

"No," sobbed Gabrielle, raising her tear-streaked face to look into Xena's. "No, don't say that..."

"Look at you, sobbing like a child. I always suspected you were weak." Xena clicked her tongue in disgust. "Go home to Poteidaia, little girl, if you can work up the backbone to face Perdicus' parents...or maybe I should just do the merciful thing and put you out of your misery right here and now." Putting actions to words, Xena lay her fingertips on the hilt of her bootknife. "Your choice: home to Poteidaia, or dead...dead like Termin, and Mesmer, Marcus, Talus,

Callisto, and Perdicus..."

"Perdicus," echoed Gabrielle miserably.

"Yes, dead like Perdicus." _Mesmer. Barruch. Dolas. Linius. Boroas. Agalia. Rhea. Biton. Marcus. Talus. Ambrus. Farris. Alyssa. Phoebos. Termin. Callisto. Vara. Theodorus. Cletus. Gilles Phantes. Lyceus. M'Lila. Kepa. Cadmon. Fedor. Philamond. Ephiny. Melosa. _

_Neola. Pandora. Orion. Diana. Lila. Perdicus. _"Just like Perdicus." She raised an eyebrow and offered a sly smile. "I could've saved him. You know me - always there for the block...when it counts." Xena squinted at the bruise already coming on Gabrielle's face. "Ooh, that's gonna be a beauty. You should put something on that."

Gabrielle gathered her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. "Oh, gods," she moaned, "Make it stop! Please, make it stop!"

"I can make it stop," Xena offered, trapping the girl's chin between her thumb and forefinger. "I can make it all go away."

In a little girl's voice, Gabrielle asked, "Would you?" She sniffed and fought back tears at the thought of release. "Would you do that for me?"

Xena smiled benevolently and stroked the girl's head. "I can give you peace. I **want** to give you peace. Submit," she crooned, showing a mouthful of perfect, white teeth. "That's all I ask. Submit."

Heartbeats sounded, echoed, passed, marking the nanoseconds it took for Gabrielle's. tired eyes to lock onto those settled just inches from her face; Xena's now-serene countenance promised relief and peace. In a voice not her own, the bard whispered, "Yes."

Xena dropped to her knees before the girl and took her face in both hands. "Whose servant are you?"

Gabrielle returned the fervent, expectant gaze. "Yours, Manus. I am your servant."

The game won, the need for deception no more, it was Manus' coarse hands that held Gabrielle spellbound. Barely able to contain his elation, he ran a long thumb across her brow and murmured, "Sleep, child. Peace is yours." Gabrielle's eyes closed immediately, and her head grew

heavy and limp in the high priest's grasp. With uncharacteristic gentleness, he eased her into a more comfortable sleeping position, going so far as to arrange one hand beneath her cheek for comfort. "Sleep, Gabrielle. In sleep, you are mine."

"Was it really necessary to kill Anthor, Lord?" asked Hesperos as he knelt at the sentry's body.

"I felt the extra push was required, and you saw the effect it had on the girl." Manus rose in his own time and turned to face his lackey. "You question my methods, Hesperos?"

"You know your will is mine, Lord. I'm simply expressing regret at the loss of an able soldier. We have so few that are truly loyal to Morpheus."

"Agreed, but all that will change when I am once again flesh."

Hesperos regarded the sleeping girl with interest. "The girl was a prime subject...very susceptible to suggestion, but will the conditioning hold?"

"Long enough for retribution to be mine, and victory to be Morpheus'. Everything that has transpired within these walls has been preparatory, Hesperos." Manus once again knelt beside Gabrielle. "The real work begins in the dreamscape. Yes," he whispered, stroking her hair.

"The metal is at last ready for the Maker's hands."


	3. Chapter 3

**Sleeping with the Enemy**

**Chapters 6,7,8,9**

**Deanlu and Roo**

**Dedicated to Renee O'Connor **

**Disclaimer: ****The characters in Xena: Warrior Princess are the property of MCA/Universal and Renaissance Pictures. No copyright infringement is intended. This fan fiction may be copied for personal use only, may not be sold, and must contain all notices of copyright. **

**Acknowledgments: ****The authors of this story wish to thank the following individuals: Atalanta, Anon. for their more than occasional constructive input; gratuitous thanks to XWPWarrioress, executive story consultant; EMartin(toao) for the cover concept and design; and Mit18 for her selfless work at the presentation of this manuscript. Thank you.**

**Copyright 1997 "Two Bards Writing". This work may not be reproduced and sold without expressed written permission of the authors herein. **

**Chapter VI**

'**Leaving Amphipolis'**

Xena tightened the girth on the saddle, giving Argo a possessive pat as she did so. Adjusting the throat latch on the bridle, she casually leaned into the mare's ear and whispered, "Is she still watching?" Argo gave a non-committal whinny. "Thought so." Xena braced herself, turned and caught her mother wiping the tears from her eyes.

"So you're off," Cyrene announced unnecessarily.

"Yeah. I want to get going before the sun gets too high." She took the parcel of food her mother offered and leisurely stowed it in her saddlebags, taking those moments to consolidate her jumbled emotions and muster her public facade. With her back to Cyrene, she made small talk. "I figure I'll take the southern route, across the grasslands, give Argo a workout. She's grown fat on hay and grain. We've both gotten too comfortable here."

"That's not a weakness, Xena."

Xena turned, something approaching a smile on her lips. "No, of course not. Look, tell Cenon and Notus goodbye for me. Oh, and make sure Toris knows about that hole in the fence before you lose any more livestock. I mended it with some wire, but it needs his carpenter's touch." Cyrene nodded wordlessly, wringing her hands, and tears ran unchecked down the blade of her nose. Xena: Warrior Princess, Destroyer of Nations...melted at the sight. "Please, mother ...don't cry. I'll be back...like a bad dinar. I promise."

Cyrene watched her daughter's face hopefully. "The inn will seem so empty..."

Xena raised an eyebrow. "Empty? With all those patrons coming and going, and Lysandra and Cenon under foot?"

"...empty without you," elaborated Cyrene. As tears spilled onto her cheeks, she stepped into Xena's waiting arms and they embraced for a long moment. Before they parted, Cyrene whispered, "I'm missing you already."

Xena held her mother at arm's length and grinned lopsidedly, "Yeah, missing me like the plague, I'll bet."

"I'm serious, Xena."

Xena dropped her voice. "I know, mother. You've been great; the whole **village** has

been wonderful to me."

Cyrene lifted her daughter's chin with her finger. "You've changed. They see that."

Xena shrugged. "Maybe so," she conceded, but the confusion was plain on her face. "It's not often a warrior achieves a bloodless victory." She gave her mother's slim shoulders a final squeeze before swinging into the saddle. "Oh, tell Cenon for me...uh, never mind." Her sharp eyes picked out the boy's white tunic, bobbing and weaving its way through the morning marketplace crowd. She pointed with her chin and winked at her mother. "Look who's coming."

Cyrene turned to see Cenon rushing towards them, shouting and waving a parcel over his head. She smiled. "His ears must've been burning."

"Xena! I'm glad I caught you!" Cenon said breathlessly. "Varian told me you'd been by to pick up Argo. You're leaving town?"

"Yeah. Is that for me?"

Cenon looked at the long, tubular parcel clutched indelicately in his right hand. "Huh? Oh, yes." He passed it up to her. "Ten sheets of the highest grade parchment Cadmon had available. I've got your change here..." He made a show of patting his clothing, fishing for the few coins she had coming to her. "...somewhere..."

"That's alright, Cenon," she said, saving him the further embarrassment of having to turn loose probably the first pocket money he'd had in months. "You keep it."

Cyrene grinned. "Tell me the parchment is for your frequent letters home..."

"Actually," Xena said, stowing the parcel in a pouch that hung from the saddlehorn, "it's for Gabrielle. I owe her. Well..." she threaded the braided reins through the fingers of one hand. "It's a long ride to Poteidaia..."

"Take care, Little One...send word when you can..." Cyrene squeezed her daughter's free hand. "You know where to find me."

Xena returned the squeeze. "Always, mother. Cenon," she said, her voice playfully dangerous. "Stay out of trouble."

Cenon popped a mock salute and took Cyrene by the elbow, moving her away from the horse. "Goodbye, Xena."

With a lingering glance at her mother, Xena spurred Argo off at a gallop, content at last that she had put a few old demons to rest.

Cyrene kept her eyes on her daughter's retreating form until horse and rider topped the hill

and disappeared from sight. "...shame she had to cut her visit short..." Cenon was saying as he happily played two coins off one another. "I sure would've liked to have seen her use that chakram of hers. You know," he began enthusiastically, "I bet she could flick the flies off a horse's ear at 200 paces!"

Cyrene turned and placidly regarded the prattling boy. "Cenon?"

"Yes?"

"If you're here, who's minding the inn? If so much as a drop of my mead is missing..."

Despite the late start from Amphipolis, the day was still young. The weather was agreeable and the sky so blue it hurt her eyes to look. Xena hadn't a care in the world. She'd chosen the more direct but less-traveled southern route to Poteidaia in the hopes that she could make it to the tiny village by late afternoon, in time to dine with Gabrielle and her family. If the opportunity arose, she might even bring down a rabbit or a boar to supplement the dinner menu.

"Hyahhh!" she exclaimed, urging Argo forward at a gallop. She left the gravel road, taking a shortcut through a grassy meadow blanketed in wildflowers. Eventually, the meadow emptied onto a trail, its meandering path punctuated by fallen trees and small gullies born of snowmelt. Feeling strangely energized, Xena led Argo through a series of jumps, all the while maintaining an unbroken line of dialogue as she coaxed the horse over one obstacle after another.

At midday, they stopped near a stream where Xena dozed in the shade of the trees while Argo fed on the sweet grasses growing at the water's edge. But within the hour, horse and rider were again moving south at a rhythmic canter; Xena knew it was a pace that Argo could sustain indefinitely. As the sun was making its slow descent into the hills, Xena found herself on the outskirts of Poteidaia. From her vantage place atop a hill, she could see small, squat buildings arranged in a rough circle, and a short distance away, the ocean glinting in the waning sunlight. Xena reflected with some fascination that for a fishing village with a good-sized port, Poteidaia had somehow managed to avoid many of the pitfalls that came with being so advantageously situated; it was still small, yet productive, and relatively innocent. She had to smile when she realized that Gabrielle was so much the mirror of her environment. She dismounted, her legs rubbery beneath her as she touched the earth. "We walk from here, girl," she said, rubbing her hamstring. With Argo in tow, Xena started down the hill in the direction of the village. She could see, even at this distance, women mending nets outside the houses, children playing at their feet, the market bustling with last-minute activity before closing down for the day. Like her own home, it was harvest time, and the fields surrounding Poteidaia were being divested of their precious yield. Rows of wheat fell to the onslaught of scythes wielded by hearty village women whose men were no doubt hauling in fishing nets bursting with the day's catch. It was a lifestyle Xena appreciated, but did not envy. For her, nothing yet matched the thrill of the road. A woman's raised voice reached her ears on the wind and her eyes homed in on the source; a dark haired girl, hands firmly planted on her hips, was engaged in a somewhat forceful debate with a man twice her size. Debate might not be the right word, Xena thought, as the man had yet to utter one syllable in retort. _The girl even talks between words. _"That'll be Lila," she said aloud as her long stride cut the distance between them.

As the man threw up his hands and stalked away in the direction of the village, Lila called after him, "...and don't expect to be paid one red dinar until I have those baskets in my hand!"

"Lila?"

Lila wheeled, anger still emanating from her otherwise pleasant features. "Xena!?"

The hand clutching Argo's reins began to sweat. "You've grown."

"Yeah, well, it** has **been two years." Lila brought her emotions under control with a speed that astounded her.

"I saw the way you handled that farmer; I've had lieutenants under me not half that tough," Xena quipped, instantly regretting the reference. By the gods! how she hated small talk; she never knew how small it could be.

Lila stood facing her, hands on her hips, feet apart, a fine sheen of perspiration present on her upper lip and when she spoke, all traces of anger vanished. "So why are you here?"

"Would you believe me if I said I had an overpowering need to see Poteidaia again?"

Lila was tight-lipped and shrugged, "No. There's not that much to see."

Xena cleared her throat and stabbed at the ground once with the toe of her boot before meeting Lila's dark eyes again; it would've given her a modicum of comfort to look into those eyes and see something familiar, something of Gabrielle. Xena thought, _'How could they share parents and blood and be so utterly different?'_ "Lila, I know you don't particularly care for me..."

"Xena, don't," said Lila. "It's I who owes **you **the apology." Xena stared stunned at Lila. "When Gabrielle left with you, I was hurt and angry. I mean, I told her I understood, but I really didn't see how she could choose a stranger over her own family. Part of me thought for sure she would return in a few weeks...and when she didn't, I imagined all kinds of horrible things had happened to her."

Xena shifted her weight and pursed her lips. "Lila, you don't have to do this."

"But I should've known better," the girl persisted. "Not only did you protect her, but you taught her, too..."

Xena shook her head. "She learned. There's a difference. If anything, I've been **her** pupil."

"When she came home last year and staged a defense against Damon's troops, I knew at last that she was meant for bigger and better things than being a village wife and mother..."

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with being a village wife and mother," interjected Xena, and when Lila rolled her eyes and presented a sweet, goofy smile, Xena thought, _'At last - something of Gabrielle!'_

Lila threw up her hands. "Would you stop interrupting? I'm trying to say I'm sorry."

Xena searched the girl's face, prospecting for sincerity; to her relief and surprise she found it in abundance. "Okay," she said at last.

"You're always welcome here, Xena."

Xena took a deep breath. "Thank you, Lila. I appreciate that more than you know."

"Now, that aside," said Lila, smiling warmly, "Tell me you dropped my big sister on her arse on the side of the road. I wouldn't blame you at all."

Xena blinked. "What do you mean? Isn't she here?"

Lila quickly grew alarmed. "No. We haven't seen her since last Solstice."

"She left me a week and a half ago at the crossroads to come home for a visit," Xena said, all the warmth and joy of the past ten days slipping away on the cold trickle of perspiration running down her spine. "I expected to find her here..."

"Xena..." Lila's voice trembled, and fear shadowed her face as she watched the warrior's confidence being replaced by dread. Her hands trembled at her lips like nervous birds. "Xena, what'll I tell my parents?"

Xena swung into the saddle with ease. "Tell them I'll find her, Lila. I'll bring her home.

I promise!" she called over her shoulder as she galloped away.

**Chapter VII**

'**Seek and Go Hide'**

'_Stupid!' _her mind screamed, admonishing herself for her complacence._ 'You've been enjoying yourself while your best friend has been missing, hurt, possibly even - No! I'd know if Gabrielle was dead. I'd feel it. Focus, Xena.'_ When she reached the main road to Poteidaia, she at last slowed Argo to a walk and dismounted. Her head down, her steps mechanical and unwavering, she searched the road and adjacent greenery for signs, but found none. As dark was stealing over the land, she reluctantly stopped her search and made camp for the night. She passed hour upon hour plotting search patterns and cursing her complacency for letting her friend travel this road alone. But she did not sleep. When dawn was just an intimation in the sky, she kicked dirt over her dwindling fire and saddled Argo. By mid afternoon, she had reached Thebes

where she proceeded to search the town, starting at The Fates Inn. Old business associates hailed her to join them for drinks, old enemies settled sweaty hands upon the hilts of their swords, and the innkeeper murmured something about_ not wanting any trouble_. Xena ignored them all, quickly scanned the room by eye, and made a few inquiries - _talkative redhead, about so-high_ - all to no avail. On the surface, she knew she wouldn't find Gabrielle in Thebes, but she had convinced herself that a methodical search was the best way to locate her friend. Three hours later, she rode from Thebes, a solitary and dejected figure astride a galloping horse. At sunset, she arrived at the crossroads where she and Gabrielle had parted company almost two weeks before. She dismounted and studied the terrain for clues - trampled brush, broken branches, footprints - she found these in abundance, but there had just been too much traffic along the road since separating from her friend. Anything, or nothing, might have transpired on this spot. Xena looked up at the approaching night, cursing the need to stop. She led Argo off the road to a clearing and quickly got a fire going before returning to bed the horse down for the night. "Where is she, girl?" she said aloud as she brushed the animal's coat. "It's been nearly two weeks." In her mind's eye, she replayed their parting at the crossroads, Gabrielle chiding, _'Come with me to Poteidaia...' _And her own monosyllabic reply -_ 'No.'_ Xena leaned her forehead against Argo's neck and closed her eyes in frustration, running her hand along the horse's silky muzzle. "I'm an insensitive idiot, Argo." The mare shifted and nickered softly and Xena had to laugh. "You're supposed to disagree."

Returning to the fire, Xena lay a few twigs across it and sat down, chaffing her hands together and trying to ignore her growling stomach. There was food in her saddlebags - bread, hard cheese and some fruit -her mother hadpacked enough for two. '_Why should I eat when Gabrielle may be starving?'_ Consigning her gaze to the flames, her mind conceived scenario after scenario to explain Gabrielle's disappearance, none of them particularly appealing and each of which left her feeling more guilty than the last. Eventually, she drifted into a light sleep where...

_...she walked through a meadow outside of Amphipolis...the day was warm and her heart was light and at peace. She bent to gather an armload of flowers, breathing deeply of their perfume. Without warning the buds opened, emitting a toxic, burning cloud. She threw the flowers to the ground as the meadow grew dark and foreboding. "No!" she screamed as the cloud enveloped her body...burning her flesh, searing her eyes...the dream was cruelly slow to unfold. There was time to see and feel everything. _

_Then the dream shifted; she was swimming in a calm, gentle lake while Argo fed on the bank. True to the formula, storm clouds blew up, massing in huge purple thunderheads. Lightning stabbed at the earth and heavy rain poured down with such force that it stung her skin. She swam hard for the shore in short, panicky strokes, but the once-calm lake was now angry with frothy, choppy waves. Just as she seemed to be making some headway for the shore, something warm and slimy gripped her ankle and yanked her roughly beneath the water. Time and again she kicked free, cupped her hands downward and parted the waters fighting for the surface, fighting to get a quick breath of air. Her rescue came in the form of yet another shift in the dreamscape... _

_...she stood on the path to the lake outside her home, a light mist swirling around her. She touched her face -whole, no burns, and her body was warm and dry. But it had seemed so real... _

_"Xena."_

_Xena wheeled and found Lysandra, the young bard from her mother's inn standing before her, her arms outstretched in supplication, her soft voice reaching out, too, gently calming her fears. Xena's heart rose and fell in milliseconds; just for a moment, she thought it was Gabrielle. "Lysandra."_

_"Yes, Xena, it's me." Lysandra stepped forward. "We didn't really have the opportunity to talk back the inn..."_

_Xena waved her aside dismissively. "Trust me, now is not the time."_

_"Now is the perfect time," countered the bard. "I've been sent with a message for you..."_

_Wary, Xena cocked her head. "A message?" Her heart leapt. "Is it about Gabrielle?"_

_"No," Lysandra said sadly. "I've been sent to warn you. You are in great danger..."_

_"That's not an entirely original prophecy. Can you be more specific?" Lysandra's form began to shimmer, and wink, gaining and losing solidity at intervals. "Lysandra, what's happening?!"_

_Lysandra gazed down at her hands, transparent. When she spoke again, there was tremendous fear in her voice, "He knows...he knows I'm here. I don't have much time...an unspeakable evil is loose, Xena...controlling the dreamscape...dreams were the only way I could reach you..."_

_"Okay, it's a dream, I got that much. __**Who**__ is controlling the dreamscape? What unspeakable evil? Where's Elkton in all this?"_

_"Elkton's powerless..." Lysandra gaped at her disintegrating form with a mixture of terror and awe. "Xena...you must come...hurry!"_

"Lysandra! Come back!" Xena came awake, shivering hard, the remnants of the dream still fresh in her mind. She looked about apprehensively. Save for Argo grazing nearby, she was alone amid the ambient sounds of the night. She pulled herself into a sitting position and took a deep breath. Her fire was a feeble glow in the darkness and she wondered how long she had been asleep; she begrudged every minute. She fed the fire with twigs until it glowed so hot and bright she had to turn her face from it. A groping inventory of her saddlebags yielded the wineskin.

"No," she said aloud, denying her first impulse to drown the dream images in sweet red wine. Better to have a clear head to make any sense of them, if any sense could be made of them... wasn't a dream just a dream? If so, why should Lysandra play such an integral part in hers? She was deep in the midst of this self-exploration when she heard the snap of a twig at the edge of the camp. In one swift, graceful movement, she was on the balls of her feet, sword in hand. "Show yourself!" Night swallowed her words whole. Opening her eyes wide to let in all the light she could, she peered into the surrounding woods. "I won't ask a second time..." Out of the darkness, a form stumbled slowly into the firelight.

Chapter VIII

'**The Sixty-Four Dinar Question'**

"Gabrielle?" Xena gaped at her friend. "Oh, gods! It **is** you!" Instantly she swept her friend up in a big hug. "Where have you been?" Xena pulled back, finally getting a good look at Gabrielle; her clothes were dirty and blood stained, her body slouched in exhaustion and at her left temple was a nasty gash, just healing over - the large bruise on her cheekbone appeared to be more recent. "Here, come and sit down." She guided the obviously-dazed girl to a place by the fire, relieving her of the quarterstaff and satchel. "Stupid question number one: how do you feel?" Gabrielle stared vacantly into the fire, her face taut with a look of extreme exhaustion. "Gabrielle...hey, Gabrielle, look at me..." Xena had to forcibly turn the girl's face from the fire.

When their eyes met, Gabrielle's opened wide in unmistakable fear as she leapt from her seat, throwing up her hands in a defensive posture. "Don't hit me!" she cried, cringing.

"What?! Easy, Gabrielle..." crooned Xena. "Take it easy. No one's gonna hurt you..."

Momentarily, the fear and indecision on Gabrielle's face resolved itself into a semblance of recognition until at last she regarded Xena with a mixture of surprise and relief. "Xena!?" she exclaimed, and threw herself into her friend's arms. She stayed there for several moments, shuddering and sobbing until Xena's strong hands held her at arm's length. "Xena," she stammered. "...I got lost...I didn't think I'd ever find you again."

Xena grinned, trying to hide her concern. "Well, you found me before I could find you," she said, wiping the girl's tears away with the ball of her thumb. "That's pretty impressive, don't you think?"

Gabrielle nodded slowly and let herself be guided back to her seat. "Dumb luck...I saw your fire...and I was so cold..."

Xena placed a blanket around the girl's trembling shoulders. "Well, you're safe now.

Just rest a moment, catch your breath." Xena set a pot of water to warm near the fire and then went about fishing medical supplies from her bag. "We'll get you fixed right up." Her fingers prodded the bard's cheekbone with professional interest. "Oh, that's gonna be a beauty."

Xena's words struck Gabrielle as vaguely familiar. "What did you say?"

"I said that's quite a shiner." Xena began working. "You want to tell me what happened?" She could feel the muscles below her fingers tense.

Gabrielle took a deep breath and focused on Xena's face in front of her. "I'm...I'm not sure, really..."

Xena looked at her friend; in the firelight her eyes were luminous, her face pale. "Take

your time," she said, making soft noises of encouragement. "You're safe with me." She opened a small jar of grayish salve and spread some liberally on a clean square of cloth. "Now...you left me at the crossroads..." she trailed off, her brow knitted in concentration as she worked.

Gabrielle's eyes flickered over her friend's face and after a moment, she found her voice.

"The crossroads, yes. I was going to take a shortcut, try and cut my traveling time. I didn't want to be on the road after dark...ouch!" Her breath hissed through clenched teeth.

"Sorry..." Xena muttered, but her fears were put to rest by her friend's watery smile...it was pale, the ghost of the real thing, but it** was** a smile. "Go on with your story."

"I remember walking along and coming upon this injured traveler...he was about my age..." Gabrielle's brow knitted and her gaze turned inward as she struggled for details. "...all of the sudden these...warriors came pouring out of the forest..." her voice trailed off and Xena could see that she was clearly agitated.

"It's all right. That's enough for now." Xena tied a bandage around the girl's head and made the whole thing fast with a tidy square knot. "There. Not too shabby. How does it feel?"

Gabrielle tentatively touched the bandage with her fingers. "Aches a bit."

"I've got something brewing for that." Xena sat on her haunches and carefully framed her next question; she began with a delicate preamble. "Gabrielle, do you remember...did these men ...hurt you?"

Gabrielle swallowed deeply. "Hurt me?"

_Sweet Athena, _Xena thought. _She's gonna make me say it. _"Did they rape you?"

Gabrielle's hesitancy was cruelly slow, and Xena couldn't help but think, however briefly, that it was intentional on the girl's part. At last, Gabrielle shook her head and uttered a simple,

"No."

Xena sighed palpably. Her mind working frantically to make some sense of her friend's rather disjointed story, she cast about for still vital, but less uncomfortable information. "This happened the first day?" She placed some leaves in a cup and covered them with hot water. "Willow bark tea...for your head," she said, placing the cup into Gabrielle's hands. "So where have you been since then?"

"I...I'm not sure..." Gabrielle gripped the cup so tightly that some of its contents sloshed onto the ground. She took no notice as she drank deeply of the tea; she made a face as it went down. "The first thing I remember is stumbling through the woods...and seeing your fire..." She caught Xena watching her closely. "This really is awful stuff," she confessed, finding a smile amidst her confusion.

Xena returned the smile, somewhat relieved. "Hungry?" She pulled some bread and fruit from her pack and Gabrielle descended upon the food ravenously. "That'll be a 'yes'," she said with a chuckle. "You must've been wandering for some time by the looks of it..."

Gabrielle grunted noncommittally, but when Xena's expectant gaze didn't waver, she paused, her teeth sunk half-way into an apple. She swallowed and, dreading the answer, ventured, "How long?"

Xena weighed the possible impact of the truth on her friend before replying, "You've

been missing 10 days."

Gabrielle's hands fell slowly into her lap. "Ten days..." she muttered in a disbelieving

whisper, turning the half-eaten apple over and over in her hands. "Xena...why don't I remember?"

Xena sensed the last of Gabrielle's control was fading from her; she reached out to still the girl's fidgeting hands. "It's not unusual...you took quite a blow."

_If she had been there... _Gabrielle's suddenly reproachful eyes locked onto Xena's and she parroted coldly, "If you had been there, it would never have happened."

Xena's gaze wavered, stung by her friend's accusation. "I'm sorry, Gabrielle."

Gabrielle blinked, shook her head to clear it and made an immediate effort to apologize.

"No, Xena," she said, touching her friend's hand. "I'm the one who should be sorry. That was a horrible thing for me to say. I'm guess I'm just not quite myself." _Sleep._ "I think I just need to close my eyes for a while."

"Yeah, sure, sleep's the thing," said Xena with a buoyancy she didn't feel in the least. "We'll talk more in the morning." Without further word, Gabrielle lay down beside the fire, drawing the blanket over her legs. The voices of the day still whispering in her head, she drifted off into sleep. Xena moved to a position opposite, spread her own blanket and sat crossed-legged upon it, her sword across her knees. As she sat watching her sleeping companion through slitted eyes, in the midst of the profound relief she was experiencing was the uncomfortable feeling that Gabrielle was not telling her everything she knew.

_"Sleep..." Manus' sibilant whisper pervading the dreamplane, falling like foul waters in Gabrielle's ear as she dozed in seeming peace at the fire's edge. "In sleep you are mine..."_

"Lord?" Hesperos shuffled uncomfortably before repeating himself. "Lord Manus?"

"I heard you the first time, Hesperos," replied Manus, irritation creeping into his voice. "You have news?"

"Yes, Lord. All the arrangements have been made, as you prescribed. Lysandra performed just as you suspected she might."

"Of course, she did. She's Elkton's prize pupil...what better messenger...what better message to bring the Warrior Princess back into the fold...the fade out was an especially nice touch..."

"I thought the girl, Gabrielle, was your chosen tool."

"Gabrielle...Gabrielle is a work in progress. I am hoping to employ her to administer the

final blow, the coup d'grace..." The benevolent smile morphed into a thoughtful grimace. "Her will is strong...even after all the pre-conditioning, she resists me. That's why these moments in the dreamscape are so vital, Hesperos, and why they should be uninterrupted."

"Point taken, Lord."

"Now, leave me. I have seeds to plant."

**Chapter IX**

'**The Cold Light of Day'**

Dawn was just a pale smudge on the horizon when Xena wakened and rolled over to find Gabrielle watching her intently. "Good morning." The bard merely nodded grimly. Xena propped herself up on one elbow, yawned and gave the girl a critical appraisal. "Did you sleep?" she asked as she stood and stretched her long limbs.

"Like a babe," replied Gabrielle. "I made breakfast." She tossed Xena half an apple. "Sorry. I didn't feel much like cooking."

"No, no. This is fine," replied Xena, tucking the apple between her teeth. "How's the head?" she asked, rolling up her blanket.

"It's all right, better."

"Good, because if you're up to it, we really need to get on the road," said Xena stalking across the grass to where Argo stood tethered to a green tree limb. Gabrielle, intrigued, followed her.

"We're leaving?"

"Uh huh, " replied Xena, saddling up and feeding the last of the apple to Argo.

Gabrielle folded her arms and said, "Can you be more specific?"

Xena exhaled, signaling the beginnings of impatience. "There's a village, about a half day's ride east of here."

"So?"

Xena grunted as she tightened the cinch. "You need to rest. I need to see Elkton."

"Elkton? The old mystic?"

"You wanna get your things together..." suggested Xena as she strode back into the camp and kicked dirt over the fire. She looked back to see Gabrielle still standing at the tree. "What is it?"

_You owe her no explanations_. "Nothing," replied the bard curtly. "You don't have to know my every thought, Xena."

Xena briefly checked a molar with her tongue. "Okay." She snatched up the pouch and staff, breaking the latter down as she moved towards her horse. She passed them both to Gabrielle and as the bard stowed the staff in her pouch, Xena swung into the saddle. "Come on," she said, offering her hand. "You're in no condition to be walking."

Gabrielle slung her pack over her shoulder. "If it's all the same to you..."

Xena cut her off quickly. "Well, it isn't," she replied and with one strong arm hauled the bard up into the saddle behind her. "We'll make better time this way."

"Xena," began Gabrielle tentatively. "Are you mad at me?"

Xena paused a moment before turning around in the saddle; suppressing her instincts, she chose clarification and tact over brute truth. "I'm worried about you, Gabrielle, that's all. If I poke and pry it's because I care."

Gabrielle smiled and shifted in the saddle. "I know that," she said, wrapping one arm around Xena's waist. "Why can't they make these things closer to the ground?"

"Hey, leave me some room to breathe!" chuckled Xena, forcing her thumb between Gabrielle's arm and her own leathers.

"Oh, sorry."

A smiled played at the corners of Xena's lips as the bard's mood changed yet again. She put it down to the trauma of the attack and vowed not to broach the subject again unless Gabrielle initiated the conversation. She applied pressure to Argo's withers with her knees and moved the horse out onto the main road. "Why don't you try to doze back there?"

"I don't see dozing on the back of your horse in my future," muttered Gabrielle into Xena's back, loosening her deathgrip on Xena's waist. "How long did you say to this village?"

"We should be there by midday. Sit back and enjoy the ride." Xena clucked her tongue and Argo moved effortlessly from walk to canter, a pace she sustained for nearly three hours before pulling up lame favoring her left foreleg. "Whoa, girl," crooned Xena, pulling Argo to a complete stop.

Gabrielle slid unassisted from the animal's back. "What's wrong with Argo?

Xena dismounted. "Probably just picked up a stone." She ran a practiced hand down the animal's foreleg, picked up the hoof and confirmed her suspicions. "Gabrielle, get the hoof pick out of my saddlebags."

Gabrielle complied and stood back, watching Xena tend the injured horse. "Will this hold us up long?"

Without looking up from her work, Xena replied, "No, just a few minutes."

_You're parched and dry..._Gabrielle removed the empty waterskin and her satchel from the saddle horn. "I saw a river just over that rise. I'm gonna go refill the skin."

Xena grunted noncommittally as she worked to pry loose the stubborn flat stone wedged beneath Argo's shoe. She emitted a low whistle and rolled the stone between her fingers. "Will you look at the size of that." She looked up to see Gabrielle's retreating figure vanish behind a stand of trees. "Wonder where she's off to..." She tossed the stone away and patted the horse's shoulder. "Easy, girl." She went to her saddlebags and rummaged around for her light hammer, and some loose nails, the latter of which she found the hard way. "Ouch!" She withdrew her hand quickly and gazed at the shining crimson pearl on her fingertip. "Nice move, Warrior Princess...catch an arrow in midflight, but let a nail draw your blood..." she muttered self-consciously. Argo nickered softly. "Okay, okay, you're next." Xena wasted no time tacking down the loose shoe. She was stowing the hammer when she heard what sounded like combat emanating from the rise over which Gabrielle had disappeared not two minutes earlier. Xena's long legs closed the distance. Topping the hill, she was stunned to see Gabrielle, staff in hand, engaged in heated battle with a burly peasant, while another man sat slumped on the banks of a meandering river, cradling one arm to his chest in obvious pain. A gifted battlefield tactician, Xena assessed the situation in an instant - two attackers, one injured, the other struggling to keep his feet beneath him while Gabrielle acquitted herself with a speed and ferocity that Xena had never before seen in the young bard. Seeing Gabrielle was in no immediate danger, Xena slowed to a fast walk. She watched with appreciation and surprise as two sound blows, one to the head, the second to the knee, dropped the big man to the ground in a graceless heap. He lay clutching his knee, writhing in pain and begging for mercy. From where she stood, Xena could see Gabrielle's eyes blazing with a hatred that she had previously reserved only for Callisto.

_Kill him! Bury your staff in his throat and kill him! _"No!" Reason and chaos warred on the foggy battlefield of Gabrielle's mind, and in it, Manus walked among the dead. _Kill him! Send him to Tartarus and have peace at last..._ Gabrielle's staff parted the air, rushing for the man's unprotected windpipe when a hand shot out, stilling its whistling descent just a hairsbreadth from contact.

"Enough!" Xena grappled with the girl for the staff. "Gabrielle, that's enough!" Xena's eyes fixed on the bard's and held her whole.

_Bitch! Of all the ill-timed intrusions... _"Xena," said Gabrielle, as if she had only just seen her. "Great timing...as always." She sighed in relief and turned loose her weapon.

"Pyramus?! called the injured man on the creek bank. "Pyramus, are you all right?" He drew his wobbly legs beneath him, attempting to stand.

"You!" Xena pointed the staff at him, an extension of her hand. "So much as twitch a muscle, and you die."

Pyramus, grimacing in agony, shouted, "I'm allright, father! Stay where you are!" His wary eyes shifted from the leather-clad warrior towering above him to the slight, fair-haired child who had so soundly thrashed him; he didn't know whom to fear most. "Please, don't kill us," he stammered.

Xena crooked a well-defined eyebrow. "Don't gimme cause. Okay, what happened?"

"She attacked us without reason!" replied the old man in the water.

Gabrielle shot back, "That's a lie!"

"No!" countered Pyramus. "We just came down to the river to check our traps and -"

Xena put her foot on Pyramus' chest, effectively silencing him. "Ah, ah!" she said, wagging a finger at him for emphasis. "Ladies first." To Gabrielle: "Talk to me, Gabrielle...what happened here?"

"I came down to fill the waterskin and...and the next thing I knew, **this one** was holding a knife to my throat..."

Pyramus made an attempt to counter; Xena applied pressure with the heel of her boot and quipped, "**Don't** interrupt. Your turn will come soon enough."

"We're not even **carrying** knives!" called the old man.

Xena observed the old man's statement to be true enough; there were nets on the bank, ropes, and a string of lines trickling off downriver...but no weapons. An old man and his son...peasants making a meager living on the river, no threat to anyone but the fish. Xena didn't care for the implications at all. "Gabrielle..."

"Xena, he **had** a knife," retorted Gabrielle. "Look, he cut me -" she gaped in unabashed surprise at her uninjured hand where only a minute before, the peasant's knife had drawn a burning line across her palm. "I...I don't understand..." She looked up at Xena in utter confusion, her jaw working convulsively, word seeking. "Xena, I was...I was so sure..."

"Please," the old man pleaded. "Can't I tend my son?"

"What? Oh. Yeah," replied Xena, stepping away from Pyramus and over to Gabrielle who by this time, had sunk to the grass in abject horror of her actions. "Gabrielle," she said, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder and dropping her voice. "Whatever happened here, I'm sure you felt you had cause to defend yourself..."

Gabrielle looked up, squinting against the midday sun, her face miserable. "Xena, I swear by the gods, I..."

Xena dropped her voice another octave and her hand instinctively sought the cool comfort of her chakram as she asked, "Do you recognize them? Is that it?" Her keen eyes moved carefully over the two men. "Are they part of the group that attacked you?" She waited beats, poised to react.

"I...no...no, they're not..." Gabrielle was crying openly now. "I've never seen them before today."

"Please...are we free to go?"

Xena turned. The old man, himself injured, was supporting his crippled son on one of his own shoulders. "I've got some medical supplies in my saddlebags. I'm no healer, but -"

Pyramus shook his head vehemently. "No, we just want to go. I suggest you put some space between yourself and that young woman, if you know what's good for you!"

"Pyramus, shut up." The old man rummaged through his emotions, found a pitiful smile and addressed Xena. "Thanks for your offer, but our wagon is just over the hill."

Xena watched father and son hobble away; periodically one would turn to see if they were being followed. When they were gone, Xena turned and found Gabrielle kneeling at the riverbank, elbow deep in the frigid water, losing what little she had eaten for breakfast that morning. Xena could do nothing but sit at her side, rubbing her back in a circular motion until at last the painful heaves subsided, leaving the bard weak and miserable, her face bathed in perspiration.

Gabrielle cupped a handful of water in her palm and brought it to her mouth; she held it there, savoring the icy chill before swallowing. "Sweet Athena..." she sobbed, eyes closed. "Xena, what did I do?" Without care, she ripped the bandage from her head and slung it aside in frustration. "If you hadn't stopped me, I would've killed him. I **wanted** to kill him."

Xena pulled the girl up beside her on the riverbank, but unable to say anything of comfort or explanation, she said nothing at all.

"I was just so **angry**...is this what it feels like to be you?"

Xena paused, her mouth open, a half-formed thought on her lips. "Trust me. We don't want to go there," she said simply, and got to her feet. "We should get moving." She offered her hand. "Come on."

"Oh, gods," moaned Gabrielle, as she took the warrior's beckoning hand. "My head is pounding..."

Xena pulled her gently to her feet. "We'll be at the temple in a couple of hours. You can rest there."

The young bard nodded and with her eyes squeezed shut against the pain, allowed herself to be escorted up the hillside. "I never did refill the skin..." she muttered.

"Don't worry about it." The bard swayed alarmingly and Xena felt compelled to sling an arm around her waist for support. Gabrielle's sudden incapacitation, coupled with her strange behavior had Xena more worried than ever. Moments later, she clambered into the saddle and settled Gabrielle behind her. "You okay back there?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Sleeping with the Enemy**

**Chapters 9.10,11,12**

**Deanlu and Roo**

**Dedicated to Renee O'Connor **

**Disclaimer: ****The characters in Xena: Warrior Princess are the property of MCA/Universal and Renaissance Pictures. No copyright infringement is intended. This fan fiction may be copied for personal use only, may not be sold, and must contain all notices of copyright. **

**Acknowledgments: ****The authors of this story wish to thank the following individuals: Atalanta, Anon. for their more than occasional constructive input; gratuitous thanks to XWPWarrioress, executive story consultant; EMartin(toao) for the cover concept and design; and Mit18 for her selfless work at the presentation of this manuscript. Thank you.**

**Copyright 1997 "Two Bards Writing". This work may not be reproduced and sold without expressed written permission of the authors herein. **

**Chapter IX cont**

Gabrielle encircled the older woman's waist with one arm and, eyes closed, nodded her head against Xena's back. "Uh hmmm," she murmured sluggishly, fighting the overwhelming urge to lean over the side and vomit. "But go slow, okay..."

"Let me know if you feel like getting sick again..." Again, the moist nod at her upper back. Gathering the reins in one hand and locking the other firmly over the clammy arm at her waist, Xena moved Argo on at a fast walk.

_You were so close, yet once again, she has interfered. Peace would be yours if not for her...all I asked was proof of your commitment, a blood sacrifice...if you do not kill when your own life is in jeopardy, what am I left with? If you do not kill when you have every justification to kill, you will never find peace...silence...and peace...her silence, your peace. Perform as directed, and you will have peace...it's a simple equation. And I have faith in you...and you trust me implicitly. Sleep and surrender your mind to my will. I will be your strength. I have shown you your true path, and your true enemies. Sleep now and think on this, child. _

**Chapter X**

'**The Temple of Nod'**

When the sun was at its zenith, the trio of road-weary travelers entered the Valley of the Dream Gods, an imposing landscape of sheer cliffs, black trees and dense greenery. Nestled in the dark heart of the valley, beside a fast-moving river, lay the small village of Thesilena - a dozen or so thatched-roofed homes, two public houses, an open-air market and a livery and blacksmith's, all spread at the feet of the temple du jour. It was an architectural scenario Xena had seen repeated a thousand times before, with one notable exception: at a time of day when the street should have been bustling with activity and life, it was empty.

"Xena..."

"So you're awake back there at last..." Xena turned in the saddle and greeted the pale bard with a wry smile.

"Xena, where is everyone?"

"I don't know..." As she moved Argo forward at a cautious walk, Xena's sharp eyes traveled over the buildings, strained for a look inside darkened homes, marveled at the empty taverns, the child's doll lying lifeless against a fence post. "I don't think anyone's been here for a while..."

"How can you tell?"

"No cook fires, not even a whiff of food...it's been days since anyone's lived here. The temple's just ahead. I'm sure Elkton will have some answers."

"Good," replied Gabrielle with a bit of her old spunk. "I got questions."

The Temple of Morpheus came into view, dark stone blocks rising in a neat, if uninspired square, spider webbed by leafy vines. Xena felt Gabrielle's grip tighten and a slight shudder passed from the bard to the warrior. "Yeah, it's a bit melodramatic, isn't it?"

"Why are we here?" asked Gabrielle.

"I told you. Elkton sent for me. I'm not sure why yet." Xena reigned in Argo as two young men, dressed in the unmistakable garb of novitiates, emerged from the temple and stood, one to each side of the main entrance. Elkton, High Priest of Morpheus, clad in a voluminous and ornately-decorated plum-colored robe bustled, as much as a man of his age and carriage could bustle, through the temple threshold and down the stone steps to greet his guests. His face, older than Xena remembered, wore a look of pleased, but subdued surprise.

"Xena. I didn't expect you until sunset."

Xena slung a leg gracefully over Argo's head and slid down the mare's withers. "Yeah, well, somewhere in the world it's sunset, Elkton. Besides, I got the impression it was urgent." She and the mystic clasped arms. "New robes," she quipped, raising an eyebrow.

"Hand-me-downs," he said with a wink of studied benevolence. "More on that later. You and your friend must be tired indeed." Elkton approached and his old eyes squinted up at Gabrielle. "By Zeus! What happened to you, little one?"

"Gabrielle had a mishap on the road..." interjected Xena.

"Xena hit me."

The warrior and the priest both managed the same look of astonishment. "What?"

Elkton turned on Xena. "You hit her?"

"Now wait a minute..." stammered Xena, defensively.

"Did you hit her or not?"

"Elkton, she's confused," said Xena with pronounced patience. "I did hit her...once. But that was along time ago under very difficult circumstances." Xena gave the bard a pained look and muttered pointedly, "And I thought we were even on that score..."

"Well," puffed Elkton, patting Gabrielle's knee. "There's obviously more to this story, but, for the mean time, let's get the pair of you settled and fed, eh?" He turned to address the temple guards. "Phyus, water and grain for Xena's horse."

Xena touched the young man on the arm as he moved past her. "Easy on the grain," she said, slinging her saddlebags over one shoulder. "She'll make a pig of herself given the opportunity."

Elkton turned and reached up for Gabrielle; looking into those troubled blue eyes, those eyes which slanted into secrets at the corners, he saw something, some fleeting image, and then it was gone. "Let me help you, my dear."

_Not a sign, my child...don't give it away..._ Gabrielle allowed herself to be assisted from Argo's back. "Thank you," she murmured and she felt the old mystic's arm slide around her shoulder as he escorted her and Xena inside the temple.

"I hope you're hungry. I have a pot of the most excellent lamb stew over the fire and a jug of port," he said, smiling at Xena with a twinkle in his eye. He led them through the maze of tunnels with the unerring certainty of a homing pigeon and babbled on about the fall harvest,

the scarcity of temple offerings and other matters as remote as the moon.

"Elkton," said Xena. "You got us here under some urgent pretext - unspeakable evil, Lysandra said, or was that just a catchy phrase?"

"Maybe Elkton just doesn't want to talk catastrophe on an empty stomach," piped Gabrielle, emboldened by the thought of a hot meal.

Elkton squeezed the girl's shoulder. "You have the gifts of an oracle, my child," he said with laughing eyes. "That's it exactly. Can't we make small talk first?"

"Xena doesn't** do** small talk..." said Gabrielle conspiratorially. "Straight to the heart of the matter, isn't that right, Xena?"

Xena managed a quirky, patient smile. "Speaking of the heart of the matter," she said, one pace behind Elkton, "Maybe you'd care to tell me what happened to the population of the village we passed through on our way here."

Elkton's bushy eyebrows came together in a thoughtful frown. "The two are interestingly enough very much connected, Xena," he said, diverting from the main hallway down a narrow corridor. "I'm afraid what I'm about to show you offers no answers, and will only inspire more questions." They walked in silence for a few minutes, occasionally passing pairs of temple priests, stationed at intervals along the passageway. The trio rounded a corner as the corridor emptied into a large cul du sac. Sunlight filtered through a bank of high windows and spilled down onto the stone floor illuminating the bodies of children, women and men, prone on straw palettes, and the temple priests who moved among them. Gabrielle tried, and failed, to suppress a gasp of horror.

Xena asked, "Are they ill, Elkton?"

"They're asleep," replied the old mystic, his eyes roaming over the room, appreciating the way his fellow priests went about their duties, moving from one patient to the next, gently bathing them in arcama oil. "It happened over the course of a week...one by one they succumbed."

"Succumbed...succumbed to what?"

Elkton shrugged and rubbed at tired, red-rimmed eyes. "By the gods, I do not know, Xena, how a thing like this happens...a mother kisses her children goodnight and is unable to rouse them in the morning...a tired blacksmith naps under a shade tree and never awakens..."

"But you're sure it's not sickness. What does the village healer say?"

"Xena, he sleeps," replied Elkton, gesturing with his arm. "Somewhere in this room, he sleeps. He was consulted at first, but honestly admitted he could find no physical cause for the comas. I was sent for four days ago, but by then, more than three quarters of the villagers had been affected. I decided to move everyone here, where they could be more easily tended."

Gabrielle peeked out from behind Xena's shoulder, her lips moving in a soundless head count. "So many children..." she said at last. "What're you doing for them?"

"The only thing I know to do..."

"Arcama oil?" interjected Xena, and the old man nodded. "You suspect Morpheus?"

Elkton was quick to dismiss her suggestion. "No!" he exclaimed, and a number of his priests looked up from their work; Elkton adjusted his volume accordingly. "I could not continue to serve Morpheus if I suspected his involvement."

"Elkton," began Xena. "We both know that nothing happens in dreamscape without Morpheus' knowledge."

"Oh, I didn't say he didn't **know** about it. But knowing about something, and giving sanction, are two very different things."

"So this is why you and your priests look like Tartarus itself."

"We don't dare sleep, Xena. To sleep is to surrender...and I won't do that," replied the

mystic firmly. "I regret involving you and Gabrielle, but I really saw no other way."

"If you're wary of involving others, why use Lysandra? Why not contact me yourself?"

"I tried on my own, but I couldn't clarify the message. No. I could only succeed in planting the seeds of unrest and unease."

"I see," said Xena, nodding. "I have you to thank for my nightmares..."

"Guilty, as charged. Though they didn't exactly bring you rushing to my door. So, when I discovered you were in Amphipolis, I sent Lysandra for you."

"Elkton, 'scuse me..." said a young priest as he nudged between the mystic and the warrior, supporting the slight frame of a sleeping child in his arms.

"Sweet gods!" exclaimed the mystic, the flat of his hand over his heart. "Silvus, don't do that!"

"Sorry. I thought you heard me come in," replied the priest sheepishly.

"Where'd she come from?" asked Xena, giving the sleeping child a professional glance.

To Elkton. "I thought you said the village was empty."

"It is," interjected Silvus, shifting the child in his arms. "Lias and I found this one and three others at the crossroads not two leagues from here. We were returning from Thebes with supplies and nearly ran them over with the wagons. They were just...lying there in the middle of the road...as if they'd dropped in their tracks. A man and a woman, the parents, I suppose, are dead. Lias stayed to bury them while I came ahead with the children. There's a twin to this one in my wagon."

"Here," volunteered Gabrielle. "Why don't you let me take her?" she asked, already relieving the young man of his tiny burden.

"Thank you, miss," said Silvus. Then, to Elkton, "By your leave?"

Elkton snorted and waved him off. "By all means, don't stand on ceremony, boy. Go! Go!" And the young man scurried away down the corridor while Gabrielle proceeded with the child into the makeshift infirmary. "Two leagues..." murmured Elkton. "This thing is as insidious as the plague." Elkton followed Xena's gaze to Gabrielle. "You're concerned about your friend."

Without taking her eyes from the bard, Xena responded, "Elkton, does she seem the same to you? Does she seem...alright?"

"My dear Xena, you would know that better than I." There was a weighty pause as warrior and mystic watched the bard's ministrations from across the room. Finally, drumming his fingers thoughtfully on his lips, Elkton spoke. "What does she say about this, mishap, as you call it?"

"She won't talk to me, Elkton...sketchy details at best. If I had gone with my instincts and pressed for information that first night, when she stumbled into camp, I might know a lot more about what happened." As she watched Gabrielle tending the comatose child, she punctuated her own confusion with, "But now...she's moody, guarded, hostile. I can't tell what she's gonna do or say from one moment to the next."

"What do you mean?"

"There was an incident on the road," she said, fixing the old man with a troubled gaze. "Elkton, she nearly beat a man half to death, and for the life of me, I don't know why.** She** doesn't know why. At least that's what she says."

"You think she's lying to you?"

"No!" Xena countered passionately; from across the room, Gabrielle looked up just then, meeting Xena's eyes briefly before returning to her work. Xena let Elkton steer her down the corridor, and out of earshot. "No," she repeated, almost thoughtfully.

"No, of course she's not being consciously deceptive," Elkton interjected. "This is Gabrielle we're talking about after all. But," he concluded tantalizing. "There may be other forces at work here."

"Other forces."

Elkton felt her stiffen beside him. "Walk with me. Hear me out." Elkton threaded his arm through Xena's as they walked. "Tell me...how long were the two of you separated?"

"Ten days. Why?

"And she has no memory of that period?"

"None." Xena brought their progress to a halt beneath a statue of Morpheus, supine on an altar, supported by nameless minions; the irony did not escape her. "Elkton," she said, swallowing her annoyance. "What're you getting at?"

"Ten days...I suppose it could be done..." His gaze centered on some principle invisible in the air before him while the fingers of one hand fretted thoughtfully with the stubble at his chin. "Ten days... constant psychic bombardment...under the right conditions...it could be done..."

Individual eccentricity was all well and good, but Elkton's proclivity for the cryptic

was testing Xena's patience. Irritation crept into her voice as she shook the priest from his musings. "Elkton!"

Elkton snapped to, regarding Xena gravely. "We need to talk."

"Talk? You mean where I ask questions and you actually answer them?" Xena snorted.

"What a novel idea. I am all ears, Elkton...like the jackass you've made of me today."

Elkton laughed mirthlessly and squeezed her arm. "Purely unintentional on my part, Xena.

My apologies. Come, we have much to discuss."

"Hey! Hey, wait up!" called Gabrielle, emerging from the dark end of the corridor.

"Yes, my dear, please, join us." Despite the tone of his words, Elkton's entreaty lacked his innate sincerity, but the normally perceptive bard either didn't notice, or chose to ignore it. "We were just on our way to the kitchens," elaborated Elkton, exchanging Xena's arm for Gabrielle's. "Are you hungry, my child?"

"After what I've just seen, I don't think I could eat a bite," replied Gabrielle, allowing herself to be drawn down a well-lit passage. "What were the two of you talking about?"

"Elkton was just saying what a capable nurse you are," countered Xena; the lie lay flinty and dry on her tongue.

"That's right. You have a natural gift," echoed the mystic, re-enforcing the lie with disturbing ease, although there had been nothing in Elkton's character that suggested a propensity for deception. "It's very generous of you to spell my priests in their labors. They're very close to exhaustion themselves."

Gabrielle nodded, apparently sated by the performance. "I can see that." The scent of freshly-baked bread wafted up from the flight of stone steps leading to the kitchens and for once, it was Xena's stomach, and not Gabrielle's, that was heard to complain.

Elkton seized on the moment, using it to deflect further inquiries. "That's Hesperos' nutbread...best eaten while it's hot. Kitchen's just down these steps, mind how you go." He inhaled deeply and smiled. "You like nutbread, Xena?"

"I like it well enough," conceded Xena, a little irritated at so obvious a diversionary tactic. "Gabrielle's the real connoisseur," she said with a concealed glimmer of humor.

"Oh, ha, ha, Xena. You know I've sworn off nutbread for Solstice," replied Gabrielle with commendable flippancy.

"Hesperos!" called Elkton as they entered the kitchen proper.

Hesperos, the cook, dusted in a fine layer of flour, looked up from the fat lump of dough he was kneading. His face, lighting on Elkton, registered a mixture of undisguised irritation and contempt. "Yes. Elkton."

"Food for a famished warrior and her companion," ordered the mystic, stepping aside to reveal his guests. "You may remember -"

"Xena..." Hesperos met Xena's unflinching gaze, then nodded towards Gabrielle, "And Gabrielle...yes, I remember."

Gabrielle advanced a step on the cook. "I know you," she breathed.

**Chapter XI**

'**A riddle wrapped in an enigma inside a puzzle'**

"You're Manus' assistant..."

"**Was**..his assistant..." corrected Hesperos, chafing his hands together rather deliberately; little ropes of raw dough fell through his fingers to the stone floor. "Now a humble cook..."

Xena clasped her companion's shoulder, moving her aside as she stepped up to Hesperos. Her sharp eyes appraised him critically. "From temple priest to cook...how does that happen?" She turned to Elkton. "Elkton, this man is partially responsible for the deaths of a half dozen girls; he should be in jail, at the least."

"Xena, Xena," soothed Elkton, taking the warrior by the elbow and steering her towards a chair. "The poorest use of a man is to kill him; the second poorest is to label him unsalvageable.

Hesperos has seen the folly of his alliance with Manus and has repented." Elkton graciously seated Gabrielle at the table. "Today, the most he can be accused of is letting the tea steep too long." He gave a sideways glance to Hesperos. "He may, at some point in the distant future, regain his title and privileges as a temple priest, but for now, he is working to prove himself. Isn't that right, Hesperos?"

Hesperos, far from contrite, merely countered, "My tea...is always perfect."

Elkton, to his credit, was unflappable. "I think you might check on the others in the infirmary; there's every chance the sweet aroma of your wonderful nutbread has roused the sleepers."

"I doubt it, old man," retorted Hesperos, invulnerable to the old mystic's brand of flattery, but before leaving, he took a moment to cover the rising dough with a cloth.

"Rehabilitation through better baking," quipped Gabrielle, once Hesperos had left the room.

"Yeah. Original idea," said Xena. "How does that work, Elkton?"

"I must confess, Xena, that while my stomach has reaped the rewards of Hesperos'

redemption, my spirit has yet to feel the impact." Elkton ladled generous amounts of thick stew into wooden bowls. "You don't have to trust him, Xena, to enjoy the fruits of his labor."

"It might make it go down a little easier," Xena replied, turning her attention to the food being set before her; the stew - a concoction of fresh vegetables, thick gravy and a generous amount of lamb **did **smell wonderful.

Elkton set a mug of port in front of her. "Eat," he ordered, placing a spoon into her hand. "And then we'll talk." He set a knife and a loaf of piping hot bread down on the table between the women.

"Nutbread...mmm..." Gabrielle closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. "It's been a long time..." she said as she sliced into the bread. Xena allowed herself a smile at the bard's enthusiastic attack on the hot nutbread while bringing a spoonful of the rich stew to her own lips.

His guests served, Elkton sat down heavily in a chair and rubbed his tired eyes. When he looked up, he found himself the object of Xena's scrutiny. "I'm sorry. Did you say something, Xena?"

Xena swallowed. "I said the stew is good, and you look like Tartarus warmed over."

Elkton feigned interest in the dirty floor. "Talk to me, Elkton. What's happening with the villagers?"

"The villagers are just a symptom of something bigger...something...malevolent," replied the mystic, running a hand over his face. "We're not sure exactly what, but whatever it is, has taken hold of the dreamscape."

Xena crooked an eyebrow. "Manus?" She remembered that not only had the mystic been very powerful, but that he had been among Morpheus' most favored until his fall from grace.

"You remember that Manus was banished into his own dreamscape," said Elkton, pulling a stray thread from his robe. "His body, what had been the vessel for that pitiful black soul, lays in the crypt beneath the temple, under guard night and day."

"Why under guard? I thought he would be dead by now," Xena said.

"Ordinarily, yes, the body would dehydrate and die within a matter of hours. The council's view was 'Where's the punishment in that?' so special conditions were devised to apply to members of the order who are banished to the Dreamscape."

_You're transparent, old man! Sanitizing your deeds with clinicisms. _"Special conditions..." murmured Gabrielle, her fingers beating a frenetic tattoo on the tabletop. "Set down by you?"

Elkton greeted her deprecation with an innocuous smile. "I was among those who set the conditions, yes," he admitted, turning his eyes once again to the floor. "The banishment ritual commends the body to an altered state in the hopes they will someday see the error of their ways and return to us, forgiven and again favored by the Dream God Brothers."

"What happens if they don't repent?" asked Xena, noting Gabrielle's agitation. "Do you just let them linger in that state?"

"If at the end of the High Priest's time the condemned has not repented, then the sword of Psyche is used to destroy the body, severing the condemned's last tie with the flesh." He noted, with interest, Gabrielle watching him from her place at the table. "What is it, child?"

"Nothing," she replied, turning her attentions back to the bowl of stew before her.

"It's nothing."

"Oh," countered Elkton, "but it must be **something.** You've denied it twice."

Inside Gabrielle's head, Manus' soft, terrible voice played out a self-serving monologue, alternately comforting and threatening, coaxing and cajoling. It held her too tightly, a stranglehold. It assaulted barriers, scaled walls and breached damns she had constructed to delay him. Surrender, much to Manus' surprise came in the form of an impassioned defense of him. "It's just..." she stammered, word seeking. "You keep referring to him as 'the condemned'." She looked up and regarded Elkton with undisguised contempt. "Yet, you haven't granted Manus the release of death. His torment is without end."

"Only so long as he remains unrepentant, child," countered Elkton.

Xena was quietly astounded. "Gabrielle, Manus was responsible for the death of a half dozen young girls. Do I have to remind you that you were nearly number seven?"

"I'm not defending him or what he did, Xena..." _Silence! Be silent now! I am not ready to be revealed! _

"It was justice, child," argued Elkton calmly.

Gabrielle shook her head in disgust. "I wouldn't wish your justice on my worst enemy."

_Oh, child...subtlety is not your gift...continue and she would play upon you like a lyre. _"Even Callisto was shown more mercy than that." She picked up the knife and stabbed at the loaf of bread cooling before her. "At least her death was quick."

Xena ground her fingernails into her palms; Gabrielle couldn't have chosen a more unfortunate analogy. She fought back the acid rejoinder knocking at her teeth and moved instead to change the subject. "Elkton," she said sharply. "What is it you need me to do?"

Elkton was slow to respond, his gaze fixed on the troubled young woman seated at the end of the table. "Xena, yes, I...your duty here would depend on a number of things..."

In her state of agitation, Gabrielle was keenly aware of two pairs of eyes on her as she picked disconsolately at her food. Presently, she pushed her bowl away and said, "Oh, for Gaia's sake, Xena, now you've got Elkton doing it!"

Chewing thoughtfully on her food, Xena made no attempt to defend herself. She merely paused, spoon in midflight, and regarded her companion with quiet irritation. "Doing what?"

"Watching me!" Gabrielle sputtered, pushing away from the table. "It's like you're waiting for me to come apart!"

"Well, admit it. You've hardly been the epitome of consistent behavior now, have you?" Elkton, at that moment, chose to play the unpopular role of peacemaker. "Ladies, please.

Let us not forget that you are the very best of friends and -"

"**My **memory is perfect!" argued Gabrielle. "Ask her if she remembers leaving me at the crossroads? Ask her if she remembers me begging her to come back with me so I wouldn't have to face my family and Perdicus' family alone?!" _Tread softly now, child. Think. Step back and let me in...this is not the route I would have you pursue... _She leaned over the table, fingers splayed on its rough surface and leveled her gaze at Xena. "You're a coward." Three calculated words which had a visible effect on Xena. She reacted as if struck, her eyes narrowing, her jaw stiffening. The steely gaze that made enemies tremble locked onto the determined countenance of the bard.

Elkton couldn't help but notice that Gabrielle seemed delighted by the response. "That's enough, child," he said, taking hold of her arm. "Sit down before the damage becomes irreparable."

_Meddling old fool. _Gabrielle shook loose Elkton's grasp. "Stay out of this!" she threatened evenly before turning back towards Xena. "What's wrong, Xena? Afraid you can't win a battle of words?" Xena wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and pushed away from the table. But she offered no verbal defense. Gabrielle sneered. "You wear the sword and the chakram and you are almighty in battle, that I have to give you. But when it comes to words, you are a clumsy warrior wielding unfamiliar weapons." _Oh, I am impressed. _Like a boulder rolling down a steep hill, Gabrielle's verbal assault had momentum, an advantage she was determined to press. "Come on, Warrior Princess..." she spat, her voice heavy with contempt. "Hit me." She offered her chin. "Show me I'm not wrong about you!"

Elkton renewed his efforts to bring civility to the proceedings. "Xena, if you will not stop this, I -"

Xena stilled him with an upraised hand and when she spoke, her voice was even and controlled. "Elkton, this is between Gabrielle and me."

"Oh, you are so right, Xena," retorted Gabrielle. _Child, I tire...I need you to stop this...now._ Manus voice, faint and fading, but laced with desperation, too. _Step back, find your still point as I taught you. _There was a weighty pause before Gabrielle spoke again. "It's been a long time coming."

Xena stood up and advanced on the bard in purposeful strides. It gave her no satisfaction at all to see her friend recoil at her approach. "You know, Gabrielle, I've overlooked a few things because I figured you'd been through a lot, but I've never claimed to have bottomless patience with things that annoy me."

"Why do you sound so defensive, Xena?"

"Why are you baiting me?" retorted the warrior.

"Only a guilty conscience would see the truth as provocation."

"Excuse me!" said Elkton, placing his considerable bulk between the two women. "Can I say something?"

Xena merely blinked passively at Elkton. Gabrielle exhaled impatiently and barked, "What!?"

Elkton turned to Gabrielle with a smile on his lips. "You have a smudge, my dear..." He said, running his thumb across her brow. "...just there..." Before his thumb had completed its passage, Gabrielle buckled at the knees and collapsed into his waiting arms.

"Gabrielle!" Xena raced to her friend's side and helped Elkton deposit her on a bench against the wall. Alarmed, Xena rolled back Gabrielle's eyelids with the ball of her thumb, felt the racing pulse at her throat. "Elkton, what did you do to her?"

"My dear, Xena, it's what I am attempting to **un-do**." He drew a three-legged stool up beside the bench and adopted a soft, sibilant whisper. "Gabrielle, do you hear me?"

She nodded slow comprehension. _Master! Are you there?_

"Sit up, child," instructed Elkton and Gabrielle obeyed without delay, rising to a seated position, her eyes closed. "It's just as I thought," he marveled. "You've been here before. Xena, pass me that candle."

Xena retrieved a short votive from the table; she felt the spatter of hot melted wax on the webbing between thumb and forefinger and only then did she realize she was trembling. She was visibly unsettled, even as she crouched at Gabrielle's knees and regarded her companion, quietly awed. "I'm impressed, Elkton. I've never seen anyone go under so quickly before. Is she asleep?"

Elkton relieved Xena of the candle. "In a manner of speaking...in some ways, she's more fully aware that she has ever been."

"I thought you said -"

"Yes, to sleep is dangerous, unless one has carte' blanche to come and go from the dreamscape at will."

Xena pursed her lips into a quirky smile and said, "Hesperos appears well rested."

Elkton grinned. "I was wondering if you'd notice." He cleared his throat and adopted a professional, almost clinical tone of voice. "Gabrielle, open your eyes." The bard complied immediately. Elkton passed the flame before her, mere inches from her face; her blue eyes stared vacant, aimless and unaware of the flame. "Raise your right hand." Gabrielle's small hand rose and hovered at chest height. Elkton smiled in satisfaction as the bard was his to command. Trading the candle for a knife from the table, he took her outstretched hand in his and as Xena watched, he lightly ran the razor sharp blade the length of Gabrielle's palm. Even as the blood rose in tiny crimson beads, the girl showed no reaction. "That's very good, my dear," he crooned, pleased to see the cut was already clotting. "You can put your hand down now." Elkton looked sideways at Xena, his tone and manner, apologetic. "I had to make absolutely certain," he said, setting the knife on the bench.

"Certain of what?"

"Certain of the extent of the conditioning. It's an impressive accomplishment," said Elkton thoughtfully, his voice simultaneously edged with wonder and disgust. "He's taken what was a form of healing and turned it into something pervasive and self-serving."

"You mean Manus."

"He's the logical suspect, yes. He excelled at the art of directed dreaming. Now, let's see what sort of information we can glean from your friend here." Coolly professional, he inquired of the bard, "Gabrielle, what is your reward?"

"Peace," she answered in a monotone.

On the heels of her reply, he spoke from the well-worn script in his head. "Peace in what form?"

"Peace in the Master's arms."

"The Master," echoed Xena, seizing on the word. "Ask her if it's Manus."

"Gabrielle...whom do you serve?"

The bard's countenance, formerly blank, gave just the slightest signs of cracking_. 'Master!' her mind screamed. 'Help me!'_ "Help me..." came a minimal, plaintive response.

Xena squeezed Gabrielle's knee in relief. "Gabrielle, I want to help you," she said passionately. "Tell me how." Gabrielle regained her composure and again fixed her eyes blankly forward.

Elkton sighed. "Manus' hold is strong."

"Gabrielle's in there somewhere, Elkton. Ask again."

Elkton reacted with weary patience. "Xena, please..." he admonished. "This job is best left to a professional." In deference to her wounded expression, he said, "I simply mean that you're too close to it...a successful bridge requires a cool head, and a trained voice. And if we're to get anything at all useful from her, a certain procedure must be followed. I know I might be taking my life in my hands here but, please...shut up."

Xena's chiseled features fretted themselves into a look of vague surprise. She moved to a corner of the table and with an airy wave of her hand, relegated herself to the position of bystander.

Though the warrior gave no outward sign, Elkton knew that his request had galled her, but there was no time for lesser casualties. Slowly, using his skills as a facilitator, he pushed deeper into Gabrielle's subconscious. "Gabrielle, do you hear me?" She nodded. "I'm your friend, and you can trust me. Xena's here, too." He took note of the tremble of her hands, how they alternately clenched and unclenched in her lap, but whether it arose from anger or fear, he didn't know. "We want to help you, but you must answer my questions as they're put to you, do you understand?" Again, a compliant nod. "And so, if I ask you again, whom do you serve, you will speak the name." Nod. "Say it for me, Gabrielle. Yes, or no."

Manus' voice, not much more than a faint whisper, still found the strength to berate his enemy. _Why must you hear it from her lips, old man? I know you suspect. Do you think the admission will free her? You are simple indeed if that's your game. _"Y-yes..." murmured the bard, her face slick with perspiration from the utterance. "Yes."

"Now, child," said Elkton, leaning forward in his seat. "Whom do you serve?"

**Chapter XII**

'**All is Revealed'**

"Lias buried the others where we found them," Silvus was saying as he removed the sleeping child's small shoes. "Why do you ask?"

"I'm simply concerned that they received a proper burial," replied Hesperos, casually

tossing a blanket over Silvus' charge. "Lias was good to -" _Hesperos!_ Hesperos paused in mid-sentence as his Master's voice rumbled in his head. "Lias was good to do such unpleasant work. If there's nothing else I can do for you, Silvus, I should return to my duties in the kitchen."

Absorbed in his work, Silvus gave no sign that he detected anything other but cordial indifference from the older man. "Yes, of course. Thank you for your help."

Hesperos turned on his heel and began a slow retreat through the massive chamber, picking his way through and over the occupied palettes. _My plan is in jeopardy, Hesperos. Go to the kitchens at once!_ Manus' associate knew better than to question his master's orders and though the voice inside him implied urgency, he strolled casually from the room so as not to draw undue attention to himself.

"I...I serve..." Gabrielle's breath was coming in short gasps, her face drenched in perspiration. She was clearly agitated. "I serve...oh, help..." she cried, and winced, as if in pain.

"Elkton, stop this!"

"We're almost to it, Xena," replied the mystic breathlessly. He hovered at the edge of his seat, eyes fixed on the animated face before him. "Whom do you serve, child? Tell me." Gabrielle's fists clenched in her lap, balling up the material of her skirt - her lips moved, twisted, framed words, but no sound came forth to satisfy Elkton's plea. His own hands reached out, clamping over the bard's, forcing a stillness. "Peace is the reward. Peace in the Master's arms. But who is the Master, Gabrielle?"

"Elkton..." warned Xena evenly. She stood at the end of the table, fingers splayed on its surface, knuckles white.

"No!" Gabrielle cried out, wresting a hand free of Elkton's grip. In one swift movement, it found the discarded knife on the bench and brought the blade down in an arc, slashing Elkton across the forearm before Xena could react.

Xena was there in a fast heartbeat, planting herself between the injured mystic and her friend while trying to make sense of what she had just witnessed. Over her shoulder, she saw the mystic clutching his arm in obvious pain as blood seeped between his fingers. "Elkton..."

"I'm alright, Xena."

Xena watched Gabrielle's knife hand carefully. "Gabrielle, it's me...Xena," she said, attempting the use the same calm, professional voice that had been so disturbingly successful for Elkton. She looked into the face of her friend, disappointed in the air of vagueness in the eyes that met hers. "Gabrielle," she crooned, palms outward, at chest height, non-threatening, or so she hoped. "I want you to listen to me. Put the knife down."

Galvanized by the bard's actions, Manus summoned the last of his strength. _Spoiled! If you've spoiled my plans, little one, peace, for you, will be a fond childhood memory. _

Inside a scrambled head, Gabrielle's will warred with Manus'. _Master! No! _

_You are pathetic! _Manus spat, every word, every syllable a calculated attempt to regain control of the girl's conscious actions. _All my hard work and you've all but given them the key to my door._

_I can do better, Master. I swear it! Let me try, please! Show me. Tell me and I'll do it..._

_Your contrition sounds genuine enough, child. Perhaps I can salvage something after all._

Xena watched her companion with keen interest; the girl stood stock still, struck and minted on that spot, knife hand unfaltering, lips moving soundlessly, something in her eyes turned inward. "Elkton," Xena drawled, looking peripherally at the mystic. "What's happening?"

"You're a warrior, Xena..." said Elkton, without taking his eyes from the bard. "You mean to say you don't recognize a battlefield when you see one?"

_Clear your mind, child, let me in...wholly...without reserve. My desires, when fulfilled, will grant you what I have promised from the start...peace. That's it,_ crooned Manus. _You're doing so well. You see how much better it is when you don't fight me? Your youthful exuberance cost me the element of surprise, but perhaps we can turn it to our advantage. What are you feeling now, little one?_

_I feel...hate...anger...like a bitter pill melting in my throat...I don't understand..._

_You don't have to understand to profit from that which grows within you. Anger is a seed. Properly tended and nourished, it blossoms into -_

_- into?! Tell me..._

_Use your anger, little one...if anger is the seed, let your enemy's voice be the life giving water. Let each word from her mouth be a drop that nourishes the seed. Plink. It grows and _

_I am free, flesh again. Plink. It grows, and peace is the reward. Plink. Do you understand?_

_Yes. Yes, I do. I'm so tired..._

_Rest now, little one. _Gabrielle blinked, awakening. "Xena?" She felt an unfamiliar weight in her left hand and looked down to find a knife, bloodstained. As she took in the scene - Elkton bleeding, Xena in a unfamiliar defensive posture, and a bloody knife in her own hand - Gabrielle drew a logical, but unlikely conclusion. The knife clattered to the stone floor and she staggered back, unsettled by the weight of her actions. "Oh, gods...Elkton..." she stammered. "I'm so sorry..." She retreated from the scene until her back met the stone walls of the kitchen, and then her knees buckled, and her body melted into the cool stone and slid slowly to the floor.

To the untrained, it might appear that Hesperos had chosen an awkward moment to make his entrance; he stood at the foot of the stone steps, hands on either side of the stairwell, mouth appropriately agape. Even as Xena moved to Gabrielle's side, she suspected it was all an act.

"Hesperos," she barked. "Help Elkton. He's been injured."

"What happened?" Hesperos asked, moving to the table where he swiped up a dubious looking piece of cloth and applied it to the slash on Elkton's arm. "That's a nasty looking wound," said the cook with an undisguised hint of admiration.

"Gabrielle..." Xena crouched beside the bard and looked into a pair of troubled, wounded eyes she recognized so well. "Talk to me, Gabrielle...what happened?" But Gabrielle could only sob and shake her head. Exasperated, Xena grabbed the girl roughly by one arm and hauled her to her feet. "Elkton, is there someplace she can rest?"

"Of course, Xena," replied the mystic, holding his injured arm to his chest. "You can take her to my quarters. Hesperos will show you the way."

"No. I should tend to your wound." Xena's eyes fixed on Hesperos. "Hesperos, you take her and stay with her until I get there. But don't let her sleep, do you understand?"

Hesperos nodded, surprised as anyone that Xena should entrust him with the welfare of her companion. "If that's what you want, of course." He moved forward and took the dazed girl by the arm. "Come with me, child," he said with uncharacteristic tenderness.

Elkton followed the cook and the bard as far as the bottom of the stairwell and then turned to address Xena, astonishment plain on his face. "I can't believe you did that after what we both suspect."

Xena took Elkton by the elbow and led him back towards the table. "That's exactly **why** I did it, Elkton." She guided him to the bench and proceeded to unwrap the bloodied bandage. "If Hesperos suspected we suspected him, then Manus would know."


	5. Chapter 5

**Sleeping with the Enemy**

**Chapters 12-16**

**Deanlu and Roo**

**Dedicated to Renee O'Connor **

**Disclaimer: ****The characters in Xena: Warrior Princess are the property of MCA/Universal and Renaissance Pictures. No copyright infringement is intended. This fan fiction may be copied for personal use only, may not be sold, and must contain all notices of copyright. **

**Acknowledgments: ****The authors of this story wish to thank the following individuals: Atalanta, Anon. for their more than occasional constructive input; gratuitous thanks to XWPWarrioress, executive story consultant; EMartin(toao) for the cover concept and design; and Mit18 for her selfless work at the presentation of this manuscript. Thank you.**

**Copyright 1997 "Two Bards Writing". This work may not be reproduced and sold without expressed written permission of the authors herein. **

Elkton winced as Xena tended his wounded arm. "So you agree then? It's Manus we're dealing with."

"Yes," she replied. She folded the bandage in on itself and used a clean corner to wipe the blood away. "He's using Gabrielle for his own purposes. As long as he thinks he's got the upper hand, we stand a chance of beating him...if he suspects and retreats into the dreamscape..."

"What would you do then, Warrior Princess?" asked Elkton sarcastically, bushy eyebrows knitted in a frown. "Go after him?"

"If it's the only way to free Gabrielle, yes."

"No!" retorted the mystic sharply. He pulled away from Xena and rose from his seat. "His real strength is in the dreamscape. You don't want to meet him on that battlefield if you can possibly help it." He tied the bandage off himself. "No. We have to make** him** come to us."

"This is the one," said Hesperos, as he and Gabrielle arrived at Elkton's cell, a single door at the end of a long, winding passage. In the time it took to walk from the kitchens to the

sleeping cells, neither party had spoken, and yet Hesperos had worked at her psyche for the duration...probing, groping, snuffling about inside her confused mind to gauge the damage done, and to consider what actions might heal the breach.

"I'll be fine," Gabrielle said as she saw Hesperos turning the knob. "You don't have to stay with me." She very much wanted to be alone, to cry, to scream, to think...to run. Yes. She wanted to leave this place more than anything. If only people would stop looking at her as if she were made of glass...

Hesperos dropped his hand to his side and studied the miserable face before him. "I would be happy to stay...to talk...if you like."

"No..." she muttered, her hands fidgeting nervously. "How can you say that?"

"Excuse me?"

"You must think I'm a horrible person..."

"Why?" he asked, although her response would be superfluous; he was in her mind and he knew things.

"I attacked Elkton," she replied, her eyes brimming with unspilt tears. "I stabbed him."

Hesperos nodded. "You were provoked."

Gabrielle looked at him as if she'd been struck. "I was..."

"Provoked," he reiterated.

"I was provoked," she echoed, and her actions made sense to her now. "But the Master is angry."

"Yes," replied Hesperos. He took her by the elbow and turned her to face him. "But his anger is short-lived. Did he not just moments ago take you into his confidence and instruct?"

"Yes. But I'm not sure I understand what he wants..."

"You will. That is a promise from the Master. Even now you can feel his forgiving embrace."

Gabrielle smiled in relief. "Yes."

"Even now he conspires to grant your utmost desire," he whispered. "We understand desire...you and I..." Hesperos swept back errant wisps of honey blonde hair with his fingers.

Gabrielle closed her eyes, mesmerized by his voice, and almost melted in Hesperos' arms.

**Chapter XIII**

'**Rest for the Wicked'**

That's the way Xena found them when she stepped into the scene. Hesperos, for his part, reacted with cool improvisation. "Are you feeling better now?" he asked, looking deeply into the troubled eyes of the bard.

"...what?...oh..y...yes."

"Xena," said Hesperos, keeping one hand firmly on Gabrielle's arm, as if in the act of steadying her. "You had no trouble finding us, I see."

"No," replied Xena simply, her eyes went from Hesperos' hand, clutching the bard's arm possessively to Gabrielle's bemused face. "You okay?" she asked, putting a hand on the girl's shoulder. _Plink._

Hesperos interjected, "She was feeling a bit unsteady." Xena shot him a sideways glance Hesperos had no trouble interpreting.

"If you wanna keep that hand, I suggest you move it," Xena advised through clenched teeth. Instantly, Hesperos' hand returned to his side.

"It's all right, " said Gabrielle, looking at Xena with the polite attention reserved for strangers. "I was dizzy. Hesperos was just helping me."

"Uh huh," replied Xena dubiously as she took Gabrielle by the elbow. "Let's get you inside. This is the room?" She arched an eyebrow at the cook, who nodded. She preceded Gabrielle into the room and, turning to shut the door, found Hesperos settled in the arch. "Shouldn't you be in the kitchens - kneading something?" Hesperos merely blinked and smiled in retort, taking one step back as Xena shut the door in his face. "Not much to look at, is it?" She asked, surveying the small cell - spartan described it best: a single bed barely large enough to accommodate the generous girth of the mystic, and a rickety table and chair. Resting on the sill of the only window in the cell was a miniature idol of Morpheus; an old blanket, folded in a square, provided a measure of comfort for the devout's arthritic knees. A dozen votives had been placed around the little altar; they flared and guttered, their wax trickling down to join the hardened pools formed on the sill. Xena turned the only chair outward and said bluntly, "Sit down before you fall down." In lieu of a verbal response, Gabrielle opted for the edge of Elkton's paper-thin mattress, rather than the chair at Xena's fingertips. "I'd rather you sit in the chair."

Gabrielle took all the time in the world to look up and regard Xena warily. "Why is it important where I sit?"

"Because you're less likely to fall asleep in the chair."

"I like it where I am."

Xena exhaled, the beginnings of impatience. Taking advantage of the meager amenities

Elkton permitted himself, she borrowed a small cloth and a bit of water from a basin on the table.

With her back to her friend, she wrung out the excess water, at the same time establishing a

mind set that would permit her to function effectively in these rarified circumstances - Gabrielle as adversary. "Okay," she said, wheeling, moving the chair so that it faced the bard. "Let me see that hand." Xena sat, her knees touching Gabrielle's. She had to forcibly pry open the fingers of the bard's injured hand, a task that was surprisingly difficult. As she sponged the blood away, she

hoped to find some neutral topic of conversation to fill the awkward silence between them. "This isn't bad at all...doesn't even need stitches."

Looking down at the thin red line, vivid against the pale pink skin of her palm, Gabrielle regarded the injury as if it were someone else's hand. Perfunctorily, without any real concern, she asked, "How's Elkton?"

"He's fine...hardly more than a scratch," replied Xena. "He's more concerned about you." She folded the cloth in on itself until it was a tiny, damp square in her palm. "How are you doing?"

_Plinkplinkplink. _Gabrielle gave a minimal nod and a terse, "I'm fine. Tired. I'd like to be alone if you don't mind."

"I'm afraid that's out of the question," replied Xena, rising.

"I'm not going to hurt anyone else, Xena. I don't know what happened with Elkton, but it won't happen again." When a reply was not immediately forthcoming, Gabrielle said, "You think I'm lying."

"I think you're confused. You've been through a lot." Xena moved to the window,

feigning casual interest; she could feel the bard's eyes on her as she did so. Presently, she turned, her f ace in a dusty shaft of sunlight. "Look, Gabrielle, whatever else happens..."

_Plink... oh, gods, Xena, please stop! _Xena's words dissolved into a meaningless static buzz, every syllable a poison drop on the seed Manus had planted within the bard. _Plink._ It began with a dangerous utterance. "Shut up."

Xena, calm, as if she had not understood the words. "What did you say?"

Gabrielle looked up, her eyes narrowing, hateful. "I said shut up. You talk too much."

Xena was more wounded than angry, but her hurt was tempered by the knowledge that

though these words were coming out of Gabrielle's mouth, they were not Gabrielle's words.

"I talk too much? No problem," she said with a slight quirk in the false smile she wore.

Someone knocked at Elkton's door - three times in rapid succession. Xena was visibly irritated as she went to answer it. She opened the door with a jerk to find a young novitiate. "Yeah?"

"Excuse me, Xena, but Elkton needs you to come to the cloisters at once," stammered the young man, intimidated by the size and demeanor of the woman before him. "Please," he added, an afterthought.

Xena sighed and glanced over her shoulder at Gabrielle before turning once again to the novitiate to find him yawning, full in her face. "Am I boring you?"

"No, I'm sorry...I...haven't slept."

"Wait for me outside." Without waiting for a reply, she shut the door three quarters closed and approached the bed where Gabrielle sat brooding, pale blue eyes narrowed, jaw firmly set, hands clenched in her lap...the little indications of someone in physical pain. "I'd better go see what Elkton wants."

"Go then," retorted the girl, shaking. "Leave. Get out. Please." Two orders. One appeal.

Wordlessly, though it was galling her, and without delay, Xena left the tiny cell and pulled the door closed behind her. From the dubious secrecy of the passageway, she spoke quietly to the waiting novitiate. "You stand right here, you understand? No one but Elkton or me comes or goes from that room. Is that clear?"

The novitiate trembled noticeably. "Yes."

"Good."

"Ma'am...Miss," he amended, correctly interpreting the glare meant for him. Delicately, he inquired, "Who's in there?"

Xena was caught slightly off-guard by the question. "My best friend," she said, her reply less definite, less confident than she had hoped. Without further delay, she turned the key in the lock. Her keen ears picked up the sound of padded boots moving about on the other side of the door and then she felt the handle turn in her hand.

"Xena..." Gabrielle voice's muffled, seemingly confused. "Xena, why did you lock the door?"

Xena rested her forehead against the rough grain and tried to beat down the waves of frustration and utter helplessness she was feeling. She could sense the young man standing behind her, staring at her in his own confusion, but she didn't know him well enough to care what he must think of her...this warrior who imprisons her friends.

In Elkton's chamber, Gabrielle waged war on her prison, on her jailer. "Come on, Xena..." she appealed, one palm flat on the door, the other wrapped around the cool iron door handle. "Open up," cajoled the bard, tracing the wood grain with her fingertips. "This is ridiculous. Anyone who didn't know better would think you fear me."

Looking down from her position, her fingers hanging just lightly from its smooth surface,

Xena saw and felt the handle make its first, and ultimately incomplete rotation. Then, it jiggled and jumped impotently in her hand.

"XE-NA!" roared the bard.

Xena felt the reverberation in her body as Gabrielle pounded her fists into the stout planks. With more effort than she showed, she pushed herself away from the door and turned to the young man at her elbow. "What's your name?"

"Linius!" he shouted over the din, in counterpoint to her casual attitude. "I'm called Linius!"

"Well, Linius, where do I find these cloisters?"

The young man sighed in relief; finally, a question he could answer with some authority.

"Go back this way and turn left at the end of the passage, you'll find a narrow corridor...follow that for a hundred paces or so and you'll come upon a fork, bear right for -"

"Never mind," said Xena, waving her hand in a flurry of impatience. "I'll find it." She started to leave, then, almost as an afterthought, she picked up and broke the only stool in the corridor over her knee, throwing the pieces against the wall. "No napping on the job, you got me?" The novitiate swallowed hard and nodded.

**Chapter XIV**

'**Prophecy'**

Xena found her way through the maze of corridors to the cloisters with surprisingly little difficulty. Beneath a bank of windows, against a backdrop of unruly ivy, she saw Elkton and another man, perhaps 10 years her senior, poring over a parchment. Elkton saw her, too, and hailed her with a terse wave. "Elkton, you wanted to see me?"

"Yes, Xena." As she joined them, Elkton asked, "How's Gabrielle?"

Xena shook her head. "I'll ask the next time I see her, because the girl I just left bears no resemblance at all to the Gabrielle I know."

"That doesn't surprise me," interjected the third party sadly.

Elkton took the opportunity to introduce Photis, his immediate subordinate, and the man most likely to assume the position of High Priest should he, Elkton, die. "Photis is the scholar among us. "

Xena merely nodded. "What's going on?"

Elkton deferred to his contemporary and Photis launched into explanation with palpable excitement. "Well, Xena, something really very fascinating has developed. Actually, it was Elkton's suggestion but I never dreamed it would work out so well..."

"Whoa...draw a breath, Photis," said Xena, visibly annoyed. "What're you talking about?"

Photis regarded the warrior, carefully weighing her irritation against his need to perform for his mentor. It took him no time at all to opt for brevity. "Manus is using your friend to escape the dreamplane."

"It's true, Xena," said Elkton. He gestured to the parchment with his uninjured arm. "And we don't have much time at all if what's on this parchment is correct."

"Okay," said Xena, gaining interest by degrees. "I give. What's on the parchment?"

"In ministering to the sleepers, I discovered that some, but not all of them, talked in their sleep - nonsense words and phrases, or so I thought. Two nights ago, I assigned novitiates to each of the more vocal sleepers, to keep a record of every word spoken. Photis was assigned the unenviable task of making sense of it all."

Photis moved to Xena's elbow to better display the parchment, five columns, each a dozen words deep. "I hope you can read my scrawl..."

Xena gave the paper a cursory glance. "It looks like gibberish... 'night', 'one', 'innocence'..."

"Yes, on the surface, it **is** gibberish. Taken separately, the words mean nothing, just the random babblings of sleepers, but -" Photis shifted a page of parchment from back to front. "I played around with it a little, omitted some words here and there..." He cleared his throat and recited with effect. "'Longest day, shortest night, innocent's blood to set it right. Once more to flesh, once more to bone, made to pay - every one.'"

"It rhymes. How nice," quipped Xena, her natural cynicism coming awake.

Photis glared at her, nonplussed. Elkton snorted. "How you can you make light of this, Xena?"

"Elkton, you said it yourself: nonsense words..."

"No, no!" countered Photis. "Listen: 'longest day, shortest night'...that's the solstice."

"'An innocent's blood...'" said Elkton. "That could be Gabrielle. Perhaps a sacrifice on the solstice night. And that reference to flesh and blood...these are more than just random words on a page, Xena. This borders on prophetic."

"Be that as it may, Elkton, we can't build a defense based on your interpretation of words Photis has moved around on a page till it made sense to him."

"Then what would you suggest we do, Xena? March down to the crypt and lop off Manus' head on the spot?"

Xena scratched her ear thoughtfully. "I gotta admit, the temptation to separate his head from his body is a big distraction."

"Xena," began Photis, rolling the scroll up in his hands. "If I'm wrong, all we've done

is waste a few minutes assigning importance to gibberish. If I'm right, and we do not act: your friend will be dead, and Manus will be a free man tonight. Now, do you want that on your conscience?"

Xena shot Photis a glance, 'The Look', Gabrielle affectionately called it. To his credit, Photis returned her scrutiny with an unblinking stare of his own. "Okay," she said at last, relenting. "So, if tonight's the night, why don't I just stroll down there and -"

"Separate his head from his body?" asked Elkton with a smile; Xena shrugged. "I would gladly wield the sword myself, Xena, if I thought it would put an end to this madness, but I'm afraid we would only be condemning his victims...the villagers, Gabrielle...to death."

"Elkton's right," said Photis, tapping the scroll lightly against his lips. "Manus' hold in the dreamscape is strong. He's using the sleepers' dreams and nightmares to fuel his machinations.

They're still alive because he needs them. Kill him, sever that tie, and all could die. No. To understand how to stop Manus, we must understand the message here, in the scroll."

Xena exhaled. "Let's hear the verse again." Photis recited by rote, with feeling, the warning as constructed by him. As poetry, it lacked style and content...as prophecy it left her feeling vaguely chilled. "So, for Manus to be free of the dreamscape, Gabrielle must die on solstice night...is that the general interpretation?"

Elkton and Photis exchanged glances. "You sound skeptical, Xena," said Elkton. "What else could it mean?"

"Why Gabrielle?" Xena took the scroll from Photis. "I mean, why not someone else?"

She shuffled the stiff parchment to look at the master list Photis had assembled. "Ideas?"

"Gabrielle is still a blood innocent," observed Elkton. "Using her as his instrument of revenge against you, Xena, must seem like divine judgment. The preparations for his flight from the dreamscape have probably been in the works for some time, but when you and Gabrielle entered his realm of influence, it was an opportunity he couldn't resist."

"That may be true, but Manus' doesn't have the power the write prophecy," countered Xena. "People like the Oracle and Photis here record it for posterity, but they don't invent it." She walked the length of the room in silence. At the wall, before one of the many altars to Morpheus, she turned to face the two men. "Only the gods can write prophecy."

"Yes," said Elkton, lowering his voice to demonstrate that he understood the gravity of her statement. "Manus has the approval of Morpheus...I can't believe it, but...it must be..." he shook his head, utterly dejected. "So, what now, Xena? If the gods are the architects of this misery, what chance do we stand against them?"

Commiserating, Xena walked briskly to the mystic and squeezed his arm. "Because it is just prophecy, Elkton," she retorted with quiet assurance. "And prophecy can be changed, re-written...erased altogether."

"Any one of the above is certainly a possibility, so long as we're agreed on the requirements as set down in the prophecy," interjected Photis. "There are two irrefutable truths - an innocent must die to free Manus, and Manus must be released to be executed."

"Photis..." Xena's eyes drifted up from the parchment. "Explain something to me."

"Surely," he said, drawn by her voice to stand at her elbow. "What is it?

"What's this word?"

Photis squinted. "Innocense...yes, that's an 's'. I know. I've been told I have the handwriting of a healer."

"Innocense," Xena repeated, rolling the word around on her tongue. "Why did you choose 'innocent'...as in 'an innocent's blood'...why not 'innocense'?"

Photis seemed at once amused and unnerved by her scrutiny of his verse. "I don't know...

creative choice, I suppose. Why does it matter? It comes to the same thing."

"No. No it doesn't."

"Xena's right," said Elkton. "Read the verse, Photis, but this time exchange the word

'innocense' for 'innocent.'"

Photis brow furrowed. He took the parchment offered him and began to read, angrily accenting each third syllable as he did so. "'Longest day, shortest night, innocense blood to -"

"That's it," interjected Xena with a raised hand. "Stop there."

Photis, having failed to see the significance of the revise, glared at her. "There's more."

"Not 'an** innocent's **blood', my friend," said Elkton, clapping a hand on Photis' shoulder. "But 'blood innocense'. It's not Gabrielle's blood that must be spilled, but Gabrielle who must spill blood...she must kill for Manus." He raised an eyebrow inquiringly. "But kill whom?"

"Three guesses," quipped Xena dryly. She squinted at the waning sunlight; the solstice would officially begin at sunset.

"Well, I assume both you and Elkton are high on Manus' list of priorities," interjected Photis, moving between the warrior and the mystic. "Using Gabrielle as the weapon of your destruction most probably appeals to Manus' sense of the ironic. He was always a touch too theatrical for my tastes."

"This is Gabrielle we're talking about, Photis. She would never hurt me."

"She might not mean to, Xena, but -"

"Photis," Elkton interrupted, "I think Xena and I need a word in private." Photis nodded, gathered his scrolls to him and left at a brisk walk. "Xena," said Elkton, once they were alone. "You have to stop thinking of Gabrielle like that."

"Like what? Like my best friend?" she retorted bitterly. She felt Elkton's hand on her arm, squeezing encouragement and she gentled her voice. "She's still in there, Elkton. Whatever else Gabrielle has said and done in the last twelve hours, Manus hasn't totally taken her over. She fought him. She's still fighting him."

"It's a losing fight, Xena," countered Elkton. "Now, I don't know the precise protocol Manus employed during the time Gabrielle was his prisoner, but whichever it was, it's apparently been devastatingly effective. She has but to close her eyes to feel and receive reinforcement from him, his dominion over the dreamscape is that absolute. Trust me when I say she is literally minutes from surrender."

Xena glared at Elkton, her blue eyes level and serious. "How can you say that with such certainty?"

"Because as High Priest of Morpheus, and Father Protector of this village, I'm an old hand at battling nightmares, and you, my friend, are a gifted amateur. You're able to lock emotions and memories away in a corner of your mind. Gabrielle, however..."

"...expresses every thought on her mind...the moment she has it..." murmured Xena, a sad smile on her lips.

"Such candor is endearing, yes, but unfortunately, it's probably the reason Manus' chose her in the first place. People like Gabrielle...empaths, we call them...they're like a blank piece of parchment...open, receptive to ideas...Manus' conditioning has simply removed the natural barriers that might otherwise keep her from fulfilling her duty."

"And you think her duty is to kill me."

Elkton lifted one wiry eyebrow. "Among other things..."

"She won't, you know," said Xena with conviction.

"You sound very sure, my friend."

"I am. I'm telling you: she won't hurt me."

"That, my dear Xena, could be the kind of faith that gets you killed."

**Chapter XV**

'**Betrayal'**

"Welcome back, little one," said Hesperos. He put one hand to the small of Gabrielle's back and ushered her across the physical threshold between waking and dreaming. "It's lovely, wouldn't you agree?" He made a broad sweeping gesture with his free hand, encompassing a vista of blue skies, black sands and a dusty footpath between sloping green hills. The birds above her, flying in V-formation, headed south.

"It's lovely," she agreed at last; the warmth of his hand on her back felt strangely comfortable. "I know this place..." her brow furrowed and she pivoted on her heels, taking in the

scenery. "This is where..."

"Yes, child." Hesperos dropped his hand and moved to stand beside her. "This is where Perdicus died. You remember that day..."

"Like it was yesterday," she replied, all amazement. "We stood here..." she looked down at her boots, dusty, planted in the wagon ruts in the road. "...right here..." She unconsciously touched her fingers to her lips. "We kissed...we kissed and then..."

"And then?" Hesperos prompted, feigning ignorance.

"And then Callisto was there...and then Xena...out of nowhere. She saved my life."

Hesperos circled her with predatory grace, dragging his finger along her shoulder blades as he did so. "She let you live. There's difference."

"Callisto would've killed me...she did kill Perdicus..." her voice trailed off into a sad whisper as she remembered clashing swords, a single swift strike, and a young man dying at the edge of the road. Wordlessly, without thinking, she moved to a spot where the grass was slightly matted, slightly bloody. "He fell here." She bent and touched the grass; her fingers came away crimson, sticky. "Still warm..." she marveled.

"It's crossed your mind that your young husband might still be alive if not for you, hasn't it?" Gabrielle nodded, sullenly. "What if I were to tell you that only one person among those present on this road that day could've saved Perdicus..."

Gabrielle shook her head. "Callisto wouldn't -"

"No," he said sharply, like a schoolmaster reproaching a child. "Not Callisto." With an airy gesture, the scene wavered into focus: young lovers locked in a passionate embrace, stars in their eyes in the middle of the day and then an unexpected and violent intrusion culminating in clashing swords. "This is how you remember it..." Gabrielle nodded, lips trembling, eyes brimming with tears. "But..." he said, taking her by the shoulders. "Stand here." He positioned her in the prints he had left in the soft dirt. "Now...look with different eyes..." he said, conjuring yet another scenario. "Sometimes, Gabrielle, it's simply a matter of perspective." Again, the young lovers embraced, whispering endearments, making plans... Gabrielle had an overwhelming urge to call out, to warn them of the danger...and again, now frighteningly predictable, Callisto makes her appearance. "Your young man was brave," said Hesperos into her ear, narrating the scene. "But he didn't know his adversary...and here comes Xena, on cue...one of those showy dismounts of hers and it's all for appearance you know...look...she's blocking those strikes, but she's not even attempting to do any real damage to Callisto. Oh. Nice move, really very good. What do you think she means - kill your soul?" Hesperos' breath stirred the tiny hairs at her nape. "And here it comes, watch closely...I think you'll find this bit enlightening...do you see that? Watch her face, see the way her eyes follow Callisto's every move...she sees it coming...she knows...and yet..."

"And yet?" Gabrielle shook herself, stammering, "No...she's too far away to stop it."

"Come, Gabrielle, you and I both know that kind of distance is nothing to someone of

Xena's amazing talents. Look at her eyes...they move from Callisto, to the young man, and back again...she sees the plan forming in Callisto's head, but she does...nothing. She watches, a witness...a bystander...an accessory to the murder."

Gabrielle listened to his words, drugged with terror, as repeatedly the scene, in startling

clarity, was played out again and again before her eyes until she saw all the little nuances and clues of which Hesperos spoke. "She could've saved him...she chose not to."

"She as good as struck the blow herself." Hesperos moved to stand before her; she did not flinch as his fingers touched her hair and her neck before they drew her to him in a powerful, needy embrace. "Look at me, Gabrielle..."

Her pale blue eyes found his, waiting, alight, and a smile crossed her lips. "Hello, Perdicus..."

Hesperos wet his lips. "Kiss me...wife."

"Hesperos."

His Master's voice. Hesperos' hands froze momentarily in their joyful exploration of the young bard's curves before dropping dejectedly to his sides, a schoolboy reproached. "I have no excuses, Lord."

Manus clicked his tongue in disgust. "Do you think I bestowed these gifts on you for your own pleasure? I was willing to ignore it the first time because it worked towards our end, but this..." Manus moved in orbit around the sleeping bard and his errant toadie. "...is self-indulgent and self-serving." With a minimal wriggle of his fingers, Gabrielle vanished with a sigh. "I am scant hours from deliverance. You need to be more focused than ever before. You must restrain your own desires and keep the bigger picture in mind. Do I make myself clear, Hesperos?"

"Abundantly, Lord. All is in readiness. It cannot fail."

Distance was the answer, Xena thought as she moved through the myriad of passages,

letting cold pragmatism replace incapacitating guilt. It felt good to have a plan, the details of which she had drawn in the short minutes since leaving Elkton at the cloisters. She would collect Gabrielle and take her, aboard Argo, to a point as far outside the village as possible while still being able to return to the temple herself before the height of solstice. It bolstered her flagging energy to think of dispatching Manus; finesse and subtlety aside, nothing satisfied like the stroke of a sword. As she neared Elkton's chamber, the air almost hummed with expectancy and Xena found her hands had that same tingly chill that came before every battle. _She'll struggle. She won't be able to help herself._ Xena knew a dozen different ways to subdue an opponent without doing physical harm, and she was prepared to do anything to remove Gabrielle from Manus' deadly equation. She rounded the final corner onto the short passage to the sleeping cells and there, right where she'd left him, was Linius. He lay slumped against the door and her fingers at his throat confirmed that Manus had claimed yet another victim. She muttered an oath and gently settled the young novitiate against the opposite wall.Turning the key in the lock, she put her hand on the doorknob and entered the room. The votives, mere stubs now, gave off a weak, flickering light, but it was enough for Xena to see Gabrielle recumbent on the bed. "Gabrielle?"

she queried, approaching. _Sleep, _Xena mused. _The one place I can't protect her..the one realm I can't conquer...not under these conditions_. Xena knew from costly past experience how vital the home ground advantage could be - many times it was the deciding factor in her battles - Manus most definitely had the home ground advantage. But, she reflected with some satisfaction, she'd won many a battle on foreign soil. She shook the sleeping bard by the shoulder, and when she didn't respond, shook her a little more forcefully. "Hey..."

Gabrielle tensed, anticipating the torment that rained down upon her soul whenever Xena spoke. But need had replaced dread and she found herself lying perfectly still, baiting, coaxing more from the normally taciturn warrior; even the impatient sigh which preceded Xena's next statement fell like a nourishing cloudburst upon her anger.

"Gabrielle, wake up." Xena's hypersensitive ears heard the _click_ as the bard's eyes snapped open. "Get up," said Xena, "We're leaving."

Gabrielle sat up, swinging her legs to the floor. "You locked me in," she accused, getting to her feet.

Xena made her irritation obvious with a groan. "We don't have time for this discussion right now." She took the bard by the elbow, none-too-gently. "We have to leave."

"Would it do any good to ask where we're going?"

"None at all."

Gabrielle became dead weight, pulling the warrior to a halt before they had even left the room. "I'm not taking one step more until you tell me where you're taking me."

Xena turned deliberately, and her inquiry had the weight of a threat. "Do you really want to test me, Gabrielle?"

Abruptly, Gabrielle shook off Xena's grasp and angrily strode the length of the small cell.

At the window, in the flickering light of the candles, she considered the miniature icon of Morpheus while feeling herself the object of equally intense scrutiny. "I know, you know," she said at last, without turning.

Xena stood with her back to the open door, arms akimbo, keen eyes focused on the form and the likeness of her friend. "You know what?"

A slow pivot, calculated for effect, brought bard and warrior face to face. "You killed Perdicus...as sure as running the blade through him yourself, you killed him."

Xena's breath hitched imperceptibly in her chest. She knew the accusation to be utterly untrue, of course, and so did Gabrielle, but it was the latter's unwavering belief in her, made clear time and again, that gave her the strength to respond in true cavalier fashion. "Whatever."

Three syllables in a simple utterance that set Gabrielle's blood boiling. "That's it? Whatever?!"

Xena lifted an eyebrow. "You're spoiling for an argument, Gabrielle," she said, glancing sideways out the window, at the setting sun. "And, well, we just don't have that kind of time right now."

Gabrielle shifted her weight, appearing to relent. "Time is short. You're right."

"Why don't you just keep that thought in your head? As a given."

Narrowing her eyes, Gabrielle advanced until she was mere inches from the warrior's

face. "I have three words for you, Xena."

"Just three?" Xena feigned amazement.

"Ummm, three are all I'll need...take a nap."

Xena barely had time for the words to register before her world went black and she crumpled to the stone floor, profoundly unconscious. Hesperos tossed the leg of the stool against the wall and offered his hand to Gabrielle. "Come. The Master awaits."

**Chapter XVI**

'**Longest Day, Shortest Night'**

Xena awakened with a start, bathed in perspiration, her heart thumping crazily in her chest. When her eyes finally focused she found herself entangled in her blanket, lying beside a dying campfire. Opposite her, in peaceful repose, lay Gabrielle, her chest rising and falling in the rhythmic pattern of deep sleep. Xena kicked off the blanket and scrambled on her knees to the bard's side.

Gabrielle stirred at the first touch of Xena's hand on her shoulder. "Wh..what is it?" she inquired sleepily, drawing herself up on her elbows. "You okay?"

Xena drew a breath and sat down heavily beside her friend. "I'm fine...fine. I wanted to tell you..." Gabrielle crooked an eyebrow, a non-verbal sign of query. "...that I'll go to Poteidaia with you, if you still want me to?"

A tentative smile spread across the girl's face and she sat up more fully, clutching one of Xena's arms. "Of course I want you to! What changed your mind?"

Xena grimaced. "It's not important..."

"You had a dream," interjected Gabrielle. "You saw me in danger..because I traveled the road to Poteidaia alone..."

Xena blinked unadulterated surprise. "Yes," she murmured, softly marveling. She wanted to say more, and perhaps if Gabrielle had looked at her just once with that inquisitive light in her blue eyes, she would've divulged everything, every detail of the dream in a terrible, unguarded rush of relief. In the end, the matter was not pressed and Xena merely said, "A bad dream... must've been something I ate."

Gabrielle gave a small, soundless laugh. "Well, I can't find fault with dinner...it got me

company home." Her gaze drifted to the horizon; darkness was beginning to yield the first tentative patches of dawn. "It'll be daylight soon. What do you say I make us breakfast and we leave at first light?" Without waiting for a response, she got to her feet and enthusiastically shook out her bedroll. "You know, I'm not dreading it so much anymore," she said, rolling the blanket into a tight package. "Facing Perdicus' parents, I mean..."

"That's good to hear," said Xena, waving away the dust disturbed by Gabrielle's frenetic movements. She unstopped the wineskin and tilted her head back, taking a deep swallow. Even as the warm wine slid easily down her throat, she heard movement at the tree line. Casually, she put the wineskin aside and looked for her sword. "Gabrielle..."

"I hear them," the bard replied in a whisper, already clutching her staff.

Her words were still hanging in the air as two men burst from their cover, wielding swords above their heads. Loosing her warcry, Xena somersaulted over the fire and lay her fingers on the hilt of her sword just in time to block a lethal blow her to head. She parried with her opponent for a moment, a man whose skill with a weapon rivaled her own; his sword grazed her shoulder, drawing an icy hot line in her flesh. Retaliation, borne more from surprise than pain, was swift and excruciating. Her leg, strung taut as a bow from hamstring to toes, sent him sprawling into the fire. He rolled clear of the coals, cursing her name and frantically beating the orange embers from his tunic. Xena used the distraction to check on Gabrielle. Despite a fitful sleep and no breakfast, the bard's strong arms wielded her hardwood staff with precision and confidence against an opponent nearly twice her size; she was economy of movement as two rapidly-administered blows knocked the man senseless, and a third roundhouse strike behind his knees swept him from his feet. The scene was eerily familiar. Xena's first instinct was to intervene, her second, coming right on top of the first, was to duck as she heard the whistling descent of a sword. She pivoted her body mere inches and the blade parted the earth at her feet. She used the close proximity to deliver a paralyzing knee to her opponent's groin. As he hunched over, gasping for breath, she granted him the mercy of oblivion. When she straightened and looked up, she found Gabrielle, winded, but uninjured, standing over the body of her attacker, who had not fared as well. Even before Xena moved to stand at the bard's side, she could see that the man was dead, his windpipe crushed by a single vicious blow from Gabrielle's staff.

The two women stood there for some time, reverently still and quiet in the presence of death. At last, Gabrielle shifted the staff in her hands and announced, quite unnecessarily, "I killed him."

Xena nudged the body with the toe of her boot. "Yup..."she agreed wryly. "And I am duly impressed." Gabrielle turned to face her, wonder and disbelief plain on her youthful face. "I mean it," Xena elaborated. "You didn't falter or hesitate - one clean blow to the throat - my first kill was messy..." To demonstrate, she drew a line across her throat with her finger.

"Then...then you're not upset with me...?"

"Upset?" Xena lifted an eyebrow. "No." She turned and kicked dirt over the fire. "Why would I be upset? You'd have to mean something to me for me to lose any sleep over this."

Gabrielle stammered. "What're you saying?"

Xena sighed, patiently sheathed her sword in its scabbard and put it aside. "The charade's gone on long enough," she said, ignoring the blood running down her arm, and the pain which nagged her shoulder. She raised her voice, addressing the air, "I gotta give you credit, Manus; this was a good one...full of the little details that make a convincing story. I almost believed it."

"Dreams can sometimes seem more real than life," said Manus, appearing at the tree line;

Xena did not seem at all surprised to see him. "The waking senses are so inefficient, don't you agree?"

Xena spread her hands. "This is your realm, you tell me."

"Be honest, Xena," began Manus as he moved deliberately about the campsite. "Where did I go wrong, hmmm? What tipped you off? What detail was lacking?"

"If anything, there was too much detail." Xena followed Manus' progress through the

scene with her eyes; she noted that Gabrielle, Manus' Gabrielle, did the same. "Gabrielle's perceptive, but you made her an oracle..." She narrowed her eyes and looked at the man with evident distaste. "And then you made her a murderer."

Manus feigned irritation. "You didn't care for the method? Too quick? Too neat? I suppose I could've given it some more thought," he said, scratching his earlobe. "But you didn't give me much notice. You and that old fool, Elkton have unnaturally strong resistance...I wasn't expecting you, you see...and then you go and make me a gift of your consciousness."

"I didn't have much of a choice," said Xena, rubbing the back of her head; she felt a lump

there. "You went to some trouble to set up this scenario."

"I can only re-create what is already in your mind...your hopes, dreams...your fears. Dreams are nothing more than the scraps and remnants of a person's waking life. The human mind is loathe to throw anything away. Can I really be faulted for putting it to use?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Sleeping with the Enemy**

**Chapters 16-19**

**Deanlu & Roo**

**Dedicated to Renee O'Connor **

**Disclaimer: ****The characters in Xena: Warrior Princess are the property of MCA/Universal and Renaissance Pictures. No copyright infringement is intended. This fan fiction may be copied for personal use only, may not be sold, and must contain all notices of copyright. **

**Acknowledgments: ****The authors of this story wish to thank the following individuals: Atalanta, Anon. for their more than occasional constructive input; gratuitous thanks to XWPWarrioress, executive story consultant; EMartin(toao) for the cover concept and design; and Mit18 for her selfless work at the presentation of this manuscript. Thank you.**

**Copyright 1997 "Two Bards Writing". This work may not be reproduced and sold without expressed written permission of the authors herein. **

Chapter XVI cont.

Xena shook her head. "Don't expect me to validate your actions. I think you're the worst kind of coward, preying on the defenseless, the innocent..."

Manus took umbrage. "Have a look in a mirror sometime, Xena." He moved to Gabrielle, who visibly trembled in his presence. He ran long fingers down the girl's cheekbone; from where she stood, Xena could see the muscles in the girl's jaw bunch under his touch. With his free hand, Manus called the dying campfire to life; it blazed and crackled enthusiastically. "It's ironic, isn't it? The dreamscape, intended as punishment, has served more as a haven. Here," he said, spreading his arms to encompass the terrain, "I have perfected my skills and discovered gifts I thought long gone."

"Gifts? Skills?" Xena was incredulous. "You use your skills to kill defenseless people...

to torture innocents into doing your bidding! I'm supposed to admire that?!"

"Xena, Xena," said Manus, clicking his tongue. "Such venom. I know it's not easy to shed the idea that all life is sacred...but it **can **be done."

She shook her head in disgust. "I don't know how you can think that way..."

Manus shrugged. "When you're a coward, like me, some things come easy."

"Gabrielle won't kill for you," she retaliated with confidence.

Manus smiled out of the corner of his mouth. "You sound so sure of that."

"I know her. No matter what you may have done to her, she's still Gabrielle...murder

just isn't in her nature."

Manus laughed. "You're deluding yourself, Xena. You wouldn't have contrived to remove her from the temple if you truly believed that." He moved to stand before her, his long

nose inches from her face. Quietly, he added, "The truth is: you really don't know..." He

observed her clenched fists, and her trembling body and mistook the cause. "...and that

scares you to death."

Under Manus' smug gaze, Xena vibrated like a miniature Vesuvius. If it would serve any purpose at all, she would've drawn her sword and cut him in half and never felt a thing about it. But she could only contain her thoughts and glare at him in inarticulate rage.

"Ohhh, such anger, such hatred..." Manus turned at the waist to face Gabrielle. "Can you feel it, my dear?"

Gabrielle nodded, churning the end of her staff into the ground. "There's guilt, too..." The young woman caught Xena's glare of annoyance, but sensed that her hatred was reserved for Manus. "A lot of guilt."

"That's understandable," said Manus, moving in a slow, close orbit around the warrior.

"With conscience comes guilt. I don't have that problem." His arrogant smile faded as he watched the warrior shut her eyes...in effect, shutting him out. Gradually, their idyllic green surroundings faded and were replaced by a landscape of perfect ebony wherein stood the three unmistakable points of life and light amidst the blank dreamscape canvas. "What's this?" Manus queried. He spun on his heels and took in the void, nodding appreciatively. "You surprised me, Xena. I didn't think that was possible any more."

"Elkton, wait up!" called Photis, giving chase to the older man's retreating shape.

He caught up with him halfway down the corridor to the sleeping cells. "I've just come from the cloisters..."

"And..." prompted the old mystic expectantly.

"And it's the same thing there...Septim, Athol, Mercidas...all of them...I haven't yet been to the infirmary, but I fear we will find the same thing there."

Elkton groaned, his irritation evident. He moved at a good pace down the winding corridor, Photis at his heels like a faithful hound. "He grows stronger by the minute, Photis," he growled. "He no longer waits for his victims to fall asleep...now, like some bold fox in a henhouse, he takes them where they are!"

"There may be no stopping him, Elkton," Photis replied, his breath coming in short gasps. "If his powers reach beyond the dreamscape -"

"Failure is not an option, Photis. Now, how many are left?"

Photis ticked off the remaining and available allies on his hand. "There's you and I, Lias, Silvus, Mendicus, Linius...Phyus and Androcles, they're posted at the crypt...and Xena, of course...nine total...nine of fifty-nine...the Fates have not been kind."

"The Fates must not have the last word, Photis," retorted Elkton as they turned into his cell. There, the men were startled to find Xena, lying unconscious on the stone floor. "Xena!" Elkton was at the warrior's side instantly. "Xena, can you hear me?" He turned her gently onto her side, relieved to find her still breathing, yet unable to rouse her.

"Is she - did Manus get her, too?"

Elkton shook his head. "I don't know." His stubby fingers took an inventory of Xena's injuries. "Goose egg here...and that laceration will need a half dozen stitches at least."

"That looks like a sword wound," observed Photis thoughtfully.

"Get her legs, Photis," Elkton commanded, placing his own hands under Xena's arms. "Help me get her onto the bed."

Photis put his small hands around each of Xena's ankles and lifted, grunting with the effort. "Ughn...s'heavier than she looks..."

"It's all that armor," replied Elkton as he settled Xena's limp form awkwardly on the bed.

"Too bad she wasn't wearing some of it on her head..." he murmured, inspecting the lump on her skull. "Get me that basin, will you? And a cloth..."

Photis complied and stood to one side, watching as the older priest ministered aid. "How is she?"

"Well, she ought to thank Zeus for that hard head of hers, anyone else would be dead..."

"Gabrielle is gone," said Photis simply. Elkton merely grunted. "Xena seemed so certain the girl wouldn't harm her."

"Gabrielle didn't do this," retorted Elkton. "Actus me invicto factus, non est meus actus...or is your Latin rusty?"

Photis rolled his eyes; his Latin was impeccable. "An act, done by me against my will, is not my act. That's one of the first principles you ever taught me...but Latin, Elkton," he said, clucking disdainfully. "It'll never catch on."

"It's the language of scholars, Photis, or soon will be. Now, I want you to find Linius and the pair of you look for Gabrielle; wherever she is, she won't stray far from the temple."

Alone in the room, save for his charge, Elkton rolled back Xena's eyelids, knowing what he would find, but none-the-less startled by his close scrutiny of the warrior's incomparable blue eyes, dilated, unfocused. "I know you're in there somewhere, Xena..."

"Are you interested in knowing how to free them all, Xena?"

"You know I am," she replied evenly. She stood very still, arms folded, only her eyes moved, contradicting her studied repose; they followed Manus' lazy progress through the void with earnest hatred. "Are you interested in telling me?"

"I might be," replied Manus, coyly; the affectation did not convince. "You can save them all. I will free each and every last one of them...the villagers, the temple priests..." He gestured to the form of Gabrielle. "Even your precious Gabrielle."

"Wouldn't that frustrate the prophecy?" quipped Xena with mock concern.

"Prophecy be damned!" exclaimed Manus, beating the flat of his hand once against his thigh. "Now, do you want to know the conditions, or should I just -"

"I'm listening," she interjected calmly. "What conditions?"

"Submit to me," he whispered; his low voice hummed through the tiny bones in her ear and sent an undetected chill down her spine. "Submit to my will...offer your life to me, and I will release them all."

"Submit..." She stepped back to look him squarely in the eye. "You mean -"

"One death, Xena. Blood spilled for me, in my name, and it all ends..."

Xena, to her credit, did not appear surprised by the suggestion. "If you wanted me dead, I can think of a dozen bounty hunters who would happily have accepted the contract."

"Oh, men like Hesiod...? The Titans dealt with him...then there was Thersites..." He tugged pensively at a wiry eyebrow. "Who else...?

"Atyminius," prompted Gabrielle helpfully.

Manus acknowledged her with a nod. "Thank you, child..." To Xena, "Atyminius, perhaps one of the more ruthless examples of humankind...I even gave Callisto a nudge in your direction...failures all. No. I'm convinced that the only person capable of ending your life...is you. What do you say, Xena? One life in exchange for hundreds, possibly thousands." Manus smiled, magnanimous in victory. "One life to set them free. I can't be fairer than that."

There was a weighty pause before Xena spoke again. "What guarantee do I have you'll release the villagers?"

"You have my word," said Manus smugly.

"That and a dinar will buy me a cup of wine."

"Xena, you don't trust me," he retorted, feigning indignance. "I'm hurt..but, given your nature, I suppose I'm not entirely surprised." He directed his voice at Gabrielle. "Come here, child." Gabrielle's shoulder fell under Manus' waiting hand. "Look at her, Xena."

Xena's eyes traveled without hesitation across the face of her friend; the trust there, so genuinely evident in this surreal setting, made her heart ache. There was really only one decision she could make.

**Chapter XVII**

'**Actus me invicto factus, non est meus actus'**

Xena felt gentle arms supporting her, and then a cool cloth across her brow. "Gabrielle?"

"No, it's me," said Elkton as he helped her into a sitting position. "You've got quite a respectable lump here," he said as he parted the hair at the back of her head. "Who did this?"

"I can't be sure, but I think it was Hesperos...sssss, easy there, Elkton..."

"Sorry. Hesperos, eh?" marveled the mystic. "He must've done this, too." Elkton gestured to the irregular needlework on her shoulder. "I stitched it as best I could, but I think it's going to leave a scar."

"One more for the collection..." Xena groaned as her fingers probed an egg-sized lump at the base of her skull. Trying to focus her eyes, she blinked surprise and muttered, "It's dark."

"One of the telltale characteristics of nightfall," quipped Elkton. "I've been trying to rouse you for hours."

Xena cast frantically about the room, and the effort made her head pound. "Where's Gabrielle?"

"She was gone when we found you," replied Elkton. "I have people searching the temple grounds for her." Xena swung her legs off the bed; her feet intersected a hard, flat plane she tentatively identified as the floor. "Hesperos has gone missing, too," he said, watching the warrior carefully.

"Big surprise," said Xena through clenched teeth. She struggled to her feet, her remarkable recuperative powers curiously absent as she leaned heavily against Elkton for support.

"Easy, now," he crooned. "Or you won't be going anywhere but down."

Xena shut her eyes, shaking her head to clear it. "Just gimme a minute..."

"I'd offer you a chair," said the mystic, looking at the splintered wood littering the floor. "But I see you've already had one." He laughed mirthlessly at his own joke before addressing her more seriously. "Xena...you were talking just before you regained consciousness..."

She raised an eyebrow. "More prophecy?"

"You tell me...you said, 'I'll do it.' What did you mean by that?"

Xena shook her head irritably. "It's just gibberish, Elkton. You don't take a blow to the head and come out of it spouting Sophocles." Satisfied that she had quelled his suspicions, she stepped away from the support of his strong arm and teetered precariously for a moment before finding her equilibrium.

"That's curious," he murmured under his breath. "I hadn't noticed that before."

She braced herself with her fingertips against the table top. "What're you talking about?"

He pointed with his chin. "Your sword...it's gone."

Xena reached over her shoulder, grasping only air...the sword, her lethal counterbalance for many years, was missing. She paled visibly as she contemplated the consequences of her missing blade.

"Why would Gabrielle have taken the blade?" mused Elkton, lighting on the edge of his bed. "Unless..." his eyes met Xena's. "...unless she means to kill you with your own weapon."

_One life. One death. _The possibility that Gabrielle had taken the sword was simply unthinkable and Xena dismissed it immediately. "Trust me, Elkton, I'm not easy to kill."

"I noticed you didn't deny the possibility though..."

Xena merely looked at the old mystic and pursed her lips; the thought of explaining the actions she had seen Gabrielle take in the dreamscape made her ill. "I won't be Gabrielle's first kill...I couldn't do that to her."

Elkton raised an eyebrow. "You couldn't do that **to her**? You'll be the one who's dead."

"You'd have to have taken a life to understand, Elkton. Some things are with you forever...memories that stake out tiny claims on your conscience..." She shook her head,

consigning her private demons to the back of her mind. "If Gabrielle had wanted to kill me, why didn't she when she had the chance?"

"You don't want my argument, Xena," said Elkton, rummaging through his raging emotions for a smile. "So...what now?"

"We need to find Gabrielle and Hesperos," she announced resolutely.

"Perhaps easier said than done. The grounds are extensive. I've had people searching for Gabrielle since the moment we discovered she was missing. No one's seen either her or Hesperos."

"People don't just disappear into thin air, Elkton. Come on," she said, taking him by the shoulder and propelling him out the door.

Hesperos drew Gabrielle through the labyrinth of corridors, their combined footfalls echoing quietly off the stone walls. He needed no map and no directions to the destination he had never visited. His feet carried him inexorably, unerringly to his master's side. They reached a simple oaken door devoid of any decoration or adornments. The two guards, positioned to either side of the door, deferred to him, saluting with the simple swords they carried. Hesperos did not hesitate, but pulled open the door and entered the silent crypt.

Gabrielle's eyes swept the interior of the expansive chamber, taking in the dank stone walls and musty tapestries depicting various scenes of Morpheus in the guise of Ceyx, long dead husband to Halcyone coming to deliver the news of her husband's demise in the form of dreams. The tapestries, faded with age, were still powerful in their representations of a kinder, gentler Morpheus. A black river of scuffed tiles traced a path to a raised dias, and above that, at eye level, hung the Sword of Psyche, a blade of such beauty and deadly power that it held Gabrielle's gaze for a long moment before her eyes were drawn to the most prominent feature in the room; upon the dias, dressed in the ceremonial robes he so cherished in life, lay the motionless body of Manus, looking very much unchanged since Gabrielle had seen him last. That was it: echoing space, silence, and one still figure.

Hesperos left her at the threshold and addressed the two guards at the entrance to the chamber. He conferred with them in hushed tones for a moment before waving them back to their posts. Moving once again to stand beside Gabrielle, he said, "The master awaits."

As she was prompted over the threshold and into the room, it seemed to Gabrielle as though the air had taken on a heavier quality. She could feel the evil, it pressed upon her like a physical thing. She could also sense Manus' strong presence in the room, could feel his icy caress upon her mind. Gabrielle shrugged off Hesperos' guiding hand and walked deliberately towards the dias, her eyes never leaving Manus' deceptively peaceful face. Her hands shook slightly as she clutched Xena's sword, her heart thumped as if it would burst from her chest. As she drew nearer, she could see a plaque set directly into the dias, bearing an inscription and an icon of Morpheus. Gabrielle set the sword aside and knelt before the dias as any disciple might kneel before an altar. Eventually, she found her voice and spoke, in confidential whispers of her devotion to her master. "Soon. Soon you'll be free and it will be my hand that frees you," she pledged. Her fingers absently caressed the raised script on the plaque. "What does it say?" she asked, turning at the waist to address Hesperos.

Hesperos' footfalls rang on the stone floor as he approached. "It's not for us to know, child." He took her by the elbow, compelling her to stand. "Come. You must conceal yourself."

"Why doesn't he talk to me?" she asked, genuinely confused. "Have I displeased him?"

Hesperos blinked surprise at the inquiry. "Not at all. You have done all that has been asked of you, but there is one thing more. Come now, you must wait for the right moment to reveal yourself. Those who would oppose us will be here soon, and you must be ready to face them." He hefted Xena's sword with effort. "All rests with you, my dear." Gabrielle nodded wordlessly and allowed Hesperos to escort her into the shadows, behind a tapestry, concealed from the eyes of anyone who might enter the room. "Remain here until summoned."

"How long?" she implored, breathlessly impatient.

He put the sword into her hands, grateful to be rid of it. "You'll know when the moment is right."

Gabrielle clutched Xena's sword to her breast. "I trust you, Hesperos," she replied confidently.

Hesperos paused a beat, looked at the young woman seriously and then, taking his time,

lazily pulled the tapestry across her face, and arranged it so that it hid her boots. He stepped back and admired the effect before turning to the prostrate form on the dias. "Soon, Master..." he crooned. He smoothed the drape of Manus' robes, wiped a thin coating of dust from the broad, dark face with the corner of his own garment, and swept small flecks of stone from the cold slab.

He cast his eyes upward, frowning at the dilapidated ceiling high above his head. He nodded sagely, knowing that Manus would appreciate the irony of his body remaining unchanged

while the world around him crumbled and decayed.

Hesperos yawned, a wide, interminable yawn that left his jaw sore; his mind grew fuzzy

at the edges and his legs felt watery, as if they might not support him. He had to lean against the dias for fear of collapsing. As a rule, he required very little sleep, frequently going four or five days without closing his eyes. Often, before being drawn into the dreamscape at his master's bidding, he experienced similar symptoms, though nothing so severe as this. Manus always announced his intentions, giving his minion time to prepare, and so naturally, Hesperos was more than a little puzzled by his sudden physical decline. "What is this?" he murmured aloud, his initial feeling of exhaustion stifled by a wave of suspicion. _Master? Are you there?_

_Hesperos...you resist me. Why is that?_

Hesperos sighed, palpably relieved, but even as he did so, his limbs began to tingle. _No, my lord. I'm merely surprised you bother with your servant at this late hour, when resurrection is so very close._

_You lie, Hesperos. You fear me, _said Manus, and the revelation surprised him.

_No, my Lord Manus. You have never given me cause to do so..._

_...until now_, Manus quipped.

Hesperos opened his mouth to object. The utterance, "Never!" simple and impassioned reverberated throughout the chamber.

_Then join me...close your eyes, open your mind and join me, and I will show you the new limits of your world. _

**Chapter XVIII**

'**You can't get there from here'**

"Well, where is it, Elkton?"

Elkton stood poised at the intersection of a corridor, his thumbnail settled firmly between his teeth and his mind casting about frantically for landmarks. "It's this way," he said, although the uncertain tone in his voice belied the confident statement.

"Elkton," Xena snapped impatiently. "Time is running out."

"My dear Xena, no one is more keenly aware of the time than I am! Now, as I said, the crypt is..." He pivoted ninety degrees and indicated a completely different corridor. "...down this way." He moved a few feet, stopped and turned, his gaze concentrated on a large crack running the height of one wall. "...funny..I don't remember that being there..."

"Admit it, Elkton: you don't know where we are."

Elkton scratched his head and sighed wearily. "I'm an old man, Xena. I've been reminded of that time and again these last days. Perhaps my memory **is** failing me. I was only at the crypt once, during the internment ceremony."

"Well, that **was **two winters ago," interjected Xena, laying a hand on his shoulder. "And this place is as bad as a minotaur's maze." They had been walking the halls for some time now, in ever-increasing circles, it seemed to Xena, and although she had been informed that the number of people searching the temple was actually quite small, they had yet to come across another living soul since leaving Elkton's chamber. Adding to that was the uncomfortable feeling that they were being watched. She looked at her companion and could see her apprehension mirrored in his eyes.

"You feel it, too, eh?" Elkton smiled cautiously. "Thank the gods, I thought I was being paranoid."

"Even paranoids have enemies. What's down this corridor?"

Elkton searched his memory in annoyance. "I could be wrong, but I believe that way is the infirmary. I think I can find the crypt from the infirmary. That's where the body was prepared."

Much to their relief, Elkton's memory had served him, at least on this one occasion. But as they rounded the familiar corner into the infirmary, they were shocked at what they saw...a room huddled in sleep...priests and novitiates unconscious on the floor, or collapsed over the bodies of their patients, seeming to have dropped where they stood when they were stricken. "Oh, Xena..." was all the old mystic could say as he picked his way into the room, stepping over the still form of his friend and confidant, Photis. "Photis?" Elkton knelt and placed two fingers at

the unconscious man's throat; he was slightly relieved to find a weak pulse. However, the body trapped beneath Photis', that of an old man, was cold. "Photis is alive...barely." Rising, Elkton was incredulous at the scene spread out before him, positively surreal in its dreamlike quality.

Xena rose from her own examination of the young novitiate she recognized as Silvus; the gray eyes behind his sleep-heavy lids were clouded and distant. "Manus," she uttered spitefully, the very name itself had grown to personify evil in her mind.

"By the gods, Xena, do you realize what this means?" He rejoined her beneath the windows. "Manus is now strong enough to reach out from the dream plane!" He clutched her arm. "How can we hope to defeat such power?"

Xena turned at the hand on her arm, "Elkton, calm down. If we panic now, then Manus will have already won," she said, her warrior's reasoned mind taking control. "The solstice

isn't over, and if you're right, I have to be dead by my best friend's hand before Manus is released. Now, unless I'm dead, and just don't know enough to stay down, we're not finished yet."

Elkton nodded, failing to see the humor in her statement. "You're right, of course, Xena." He drew in a deep breath, using the techniques he had learned so long ago to slow his heart rate

and bring himself under control. It was then, at the edge of this perfect clarity, that he felt the first tingling...the first dark, cold tendrils of fear within his mind. "Sonofa-" he murmured, and quickly moved to strengthen his mental reserves; he felt stronger almost immediately, although the effort left him shaking. _The nerve...thinking you can seduce the High Priest of Morpheus with sleep...you won't have me, too, Manus..._

"We have company," said Xena in a whisper.

"You sense him, too?"

Xena pointed with her chin, gesturing to a darkened corner of the room. "There," she announced in a whisper. Xena's eyes, remarkable for their acuity as much as their color, discerned movement, gray against gray as the furtive figure dwelt in the shadows, moving along the wall like a hunted thing.

Elkton squinted, gazed intently at the same patch of wall as his companion and shook his head, "I don't see anything. Are you sure?"

Xena took umbrage; not so very long ago, anyone who questioned her judgment never lived to question it a second time. But she was a different person now, and the mystic with his kind heart and affable ways, merited mercy in the form of a sly wink. "Trust me on this."

He nodded and raised his voice, directing his inquiry to the shadows. "Hesperos, if that's you, I suggest you show yourself!" His voice echoed back impotently.

"Elkton," Xena said in a dangerous voice. "Wait here."

The cautionary command was still hanging in the air as the figure bolted into the adjoining corridor, Xena in pursuit. She lost sight of him only briefly when he rounded a corner. One heartbeat behind, and wary of ambush, Xena lingered at the threshold leading out into the moonlit courtyard. Presently, she felt Elkton's presence at her side. "You're as bad as Gabrielle," she muttered without taking her eyes from the courtyard. "Stay close to me."

"My dear, Xena," whispered Elkton, his fingers at her elbow. "Consider us joined at the hip." He squinted into the night and leaned in close, his breath stirring wisps of hair about her ear. The solitary figure stood poised in the center of the courtyard, his cowl pulled close to keep his face in shadow, his hands behind his back. "I can't make him out...is it Hesperos?"

"Too slight for Hesperos," she responded, cautiously moving into the courtyard proper.

"Hold!" The need for subterfuge no more, the figure slowly drew back his hood to reveal the face of the young novitiate whom Xena had charged to watch Gabrielle.

"Linius," breathed Elkton, sounding both relieved and irritated. Xena's arm across his body kept him from advancing further. "Linius, why did you run?"

The young man smiled innocuously. Without replying, he turned his face to the moon to observe a cloud of blackbirds winging its way across the translucent night sky in a singular mass of ebony. He spread his arms and intoned in a strong, clear voice, "Lord Manus takes what he wants, old man...when he wants it."

Elkton scratched his head in puzzlement. Xena followed Linius' steady gaze skyward.

Momentarily, she felt a heavy thud on her skull, a second object grazed her shoulder and fell to the ground at her feet. Upon closer scrutiny, she could see that they were blackbirds... dead blackbirds...stricken from the sky at the whim of a madman. She straightened and looked over to see Elkton throw his arms over his head in an attempt to deflect the barrage but in a matter of moments, a carpet of feathered bodies lay at their feet.

"It's a big man who can fell a few birds," quipped Xena, clearing her path with a graceful

sweep of her foot. She advanced a step, wishing she could see what the young man held behind his back. Her fingers sought the cool comfort of the chakram at her hip; shifting her gaze, surveying the courtyard, she calculated distance and trajectory...whether to maim...or to kill. She hoped she didn't have to kill Linius; she rather liked the boy. "Linius, tell me the gods were generous and gave you two hands...let me see the other one."

As if all he were waiting on was invitation, Linius brought a short sword into view. Observing the sleek blade with reverence, he said, "It's magnificent, don't you think?" He flaunted the sword clumsily, with hands unaccustomed to such unwieldy weight.

"Trust me, it isn't you, Linius," said Xena lightly. "It doesn't go with the robes."

"Linius," begged Elkton, his voice full of passion. "Put the sword down and join us. Morpheus would want you to join us."

Linius gave the old mystic a sideways glance and snorted derisively. Without saying a word, he stooped to draw a rough circle about his body with the tip. The novitiate then raised the short sword before him, the moonlight reflecting off the polished blade, and said, "For you, unbelievers...a demonstration in blood." Before Xena or Elkton could utter a sound, he spun the blade, leveled it at his chest and impaled himself.

"No!" cried Elkton, even as the blade passed through the rough material of the young man's robe and pieced the tender flesh of his chest. He rushed to the boy's side as he crumpled to the ground, spilling across the circular furrow he had cut, spilling his lifesblood onto his tunic, over his hands and onto the ground. With shaking hands, Elkton turned the boy onto his back and shook his head, intoning, "No, no, no..."

Xena knelt beside Elkton and gazed deeply into the sad eyes that looked to her for help. To satisfy his wordless plea, she made a cursory examination. "I'm sorry, Elkton," she said softly as she studied the dead boy's peaceful face. Expelling a breath, Xena reached over and as gently as possible, pulled the sword from Linius' body. Regarding the bloodstained blade, she cursed herself for the sin of overconfidence; she had expected a frontal attack. Armed or unarmed, she could have bested the boy in combat without doing any real harm to him, but she hadn't anticipated a suicide.

"No, Xena..." She turned at the mystic's voice. Though his head was bent, his face in shadow, she could see his half-closed eyes were over bright with unspilt tears. "...you're not to blame," he said at last.

Xena didn't know why his acute perception should have startled her. "Elkton, I -"

"-did everything humanly possible..." One large, calloused hand smoothed the boy's hair while the other sought her hand, covering it, taking and imparting strength at the same time. "Such is the extent of Manus' power...that he can turn the devout into blasphemers and innocents into killers."

"Well, Manus has got a lesson coming to him, one I intend to teach personally."

Elkton looked at her sideways and murmured, "Lesson?"

"He's new to war; he doesn't yet understand that any weapon can be turned on the bearer." Rising, she scanned the courtyard; she could make out small dark lumps scattered about the grounds. Manus had done it. He had finally become so strong that he could literally kill at will from within the dream plane. It was he who had killed Linius - the boy's blood, black in the moonlight, was on Manus' hands. And it was Manus who had killed these simple creatures and left them where they fell from the heavens. Behind her, she could hear Elkton whisper a silent prayer for the soul of the gentle novitiate, now dead at his own hand, guided by Manus. Xena's eyes swept the courtyard once again, and came to rest on a golden lump lying amongst the trees lining the yard. Her heart sank within her chest as she moved, tentatively at first, then at a full sprint across the grounds, knowing what she would find, but hoping against hope that she was wrong. She dropped to her knees in the cool sand at the mare's side and ran her hands gently over the golden flanks, and was shocked to find her warm to the touch. Xena's hands found a heartbeat, faint but there nonetheless. She breathed an audible sigh of relief. But the knowledge that Argo was alive was tempered with the newfound wisdom that it was Manus who now held their lives in the palm of his hand. Reluctantly, Xena got to her feet and rejoined Elkton at Linius' side. The priest's eyes were closed and his lips moved in a soundless prayer for the boy's soul. Xena touched him lightly on the shoulder, startling him from his devotions. "I'm going to the crypt, Elkton. I think it would be better if you remained here."

"Better..." Elkton murmured, his voice broken. "Better, but not safer, Xena." He pushed himself to his feet. "Manus has just demonstrated that he can take me, you...whomever he wants, where they stand." He closed his eyes in deep thought for a moment, and when he opened them again, he knew with clarity where Manus would be most powerful, his influence the strongest.

"He'll be in the crypt. Let's go get the bastard, shall we?"

**Chapter XIX**

'**Three's a Crowd'**

In direct contrast to his earlier attempts, Elkton led Xena through the myriad of passages unerringly, drawn by some unseen force; Xena had to admit, that's how it looked to her. The mystic raced through the corridors, chest thrust before him, as if an invisible tether drew him along. At last, his legs, unable to keep pace with the rest of him, folded and he sprawled gracelessly to the stone floor. Xena was at his side in an instant. "You okay?"

"Forgive me, Xena..." he said, sweat pouring from his brow. "I'm afraid I'm only slowing you down..."

She squeezed his shoulder and grinned out of the side of her mouth. "Are you kidding? I'm having trouble keeping up with you."

"Liar," he retorted good naturedly. He began to struggle to his knees, but finding them uncooperative, gave up the effort. "My body betrays me, Xena...my heart is...is sprinting but my legs...are rubber...gods, for a cup of cool water..."

"Rest a minute," Xena said, patting his arm. She rose and shifted the short sword in her hand.

"Where...where are you going?" he asked between gasps.

"I'm gonna play oracle and have a look into our future," she quipped, gesturing down the corridor.

"Don't tell me everything, okay? I'd like to be surprised."

Xena turned her lips into a fair imitation of a smile and left him there, sitting on the cold floor, his chest heaving like a bellows. She padded quietly down the long corridor, hugging the wall. The short sword, its once gleaming blade now dull with dry blood, hung parallel to her thigh. At a dark intersection, she stopped, her back pressed against the smooth stone wall. She blew a slow breath over her lips and, instincts preceding her, peered down the adjoining corridor.

Elkton closed his eyes; over his rasping breath he heard echoing footfalls, the wind howling through the passage...imagined pursuit. When he came to himself, the sweat cold and drying on his skin, he heard none of those things, but he took no comfort in the silence that belied the turmoil around him.

_Pssst_

"Who's there?" He cast about, squinting down the passage. "Xena?"

_You sound frightened, old man...is that fear I hear in your voice?_

"Manus," growled the mystic, his contempt unmistakable. "It's you who should be afraid."

_Come inside and say that to me..._

"I like it where I am, thank you. You're coming across very strong; we must be close indeed."

_Why do you seem in such a hurry to die, old man? You do know that is the fate that awaits you...and Xena. Oh, and you're right...you __**are **__slowing her down...but I must have you both, so I am content to wait._

_Manus. Bastard!_

The ferocity of Elkton's psychic retort left Manus momentarily stunned; far from being spent,the mystic seemed invigorated by the engagement. _Temper, temper, Elkton, _said Manus, clicking his tongue, feigning a casual air. _What would your students say if they could hear that kind of language? But I forgot...they can't...can they? _Elkton shook his head and cried out audibly, his hands clasped over his ears. Manus pressed the advantage. _Join me, Elkton...join me and swear allegiance now and you will be spared. _

_You'll forgive me if I forego the offer, but I've seen how you reward loyalty. _

_Remember you refused me when you are writhing in agony... when all you know is dust beneath my feet..._

_Bold talk, Manus_

_Yes, it is, isn't it?_

"Elkton...wake up."It was Xena, a lifeline to the waking world. "Come on...snap out of it. Elkton," she growled. "Don't make me come in there after you..."

Without a backward glance, he focused on her voice, on the life and light implied in its impassioned plea. "No need for threats, Xena," he quipped, even before he had opened his eyes. She was kneeling beside him, the concern on her face such that he felt compelled to soothe her anxiety. "I'm alright, Xena...my unwelcome guest has returned, that's all."

"He's persistent, you gotta give him that."

"Did you find anything?" he asked as she helped him to his feet.

"There's a promising looking door about a hundred paces down that corridor...two beefy guards..."

"Ah, that would be Androcles and Phyus, two of Morpheus' most devout."

_Even the devout have to close their eyes some time..._

"Shut up!" barked the mystic and Xena shot him a dangerous glance. "Sorry...not you, Xena."

"Manus again?"

"Do you mean you can't sense him?"

"Sorry," Xena shrugged. "You've always been his favorite. Now, if you're rested up,

we really need to -"

"Strange..." the mystic mused. "Manus is picking off people one by one; he's been so bold as to assault the servants of Morpheus, the High Priest of Morpheus...tell me, Xena, how is it you escape his attentions..."

"We don't have time for this, Elkton," she retorted, looking everywhere but into his eyes.

Elkton eyed her steadily. "Xena, whatever offer he's made you -"

"What're you talking about?" interjected Xena, playing confusion like a lyre.

"Whatever offer he's made you...he lied. You're lying to me now."

Xena considered the mystic a moment, his soft gray eyes staring intently into her face. The last man to call her a liar had his tongue cut out before she'd killed him. "Elkton, we might

**both **live through this night if you stay out of my head. On some nights, there's barely room enough in there for me."

He lay a hand on her arm and implored, "Talk to me, Xena."

"You're dangerously close to the edge, Elkton," she hissed in her no-nonsense voice.

"I think you should know I'm prepared to go that extra step," he retorted, equal to the task; he hoped she would admire his persistence...before she squashed him like a bug. He shook himself from such thoughts, which, when they were all poised on the brink of annihilation, seemed

superfluous anyway. "What offer did he make you, Xena?"

The question hung in the air, eminently answerable, and so it went unanswered. "Come with me or stay," she whispered harshly, shaking loose his grasp. "It's your choice." Without further word, she turned and headed down the corridor, and even as she did so, she could hear the rustling of his robes as he moved to follow.

One hundred paces down the torchlit corridor, Xena came upon Androcles and Phyus, two of Morpheus' most devout, and Elkton's most trusted...asleep...back to back on the stone floor, their short swords clasped in spasmed hands, as if they had gone down fighting.

"Androcles...Phyus..." whispered Elkton fiercely, shaking both men.

As Elkton continued trying to rouse the men, Xena slipped quietly to the crypt door and lay a keen ear against its surface. The air in the room hummed with expectation. "Any luck?" she inquired as she rejoined Elkton.

He shook his head, the words _Even the devout have to close their eyes sometimes... _nagging at his conscience. He lifted his gaze and regarded Xena gravely. "Manus won't give them back, we have to take them."

"I'm on it." Xena pried a short sword from the fingers of one of the priests. "Here," she said, offering the blade.

Elkton held up his hands. "I can't."

"For Zeus' sake, Elkton, arm yourself."

"My faith is my weapon, Xena," retorted the mystic.

Xena opened his hand and placed the hilt of the short sword across his palm. "Faith won't cover my back. Take it." She closed his fingers over the hilt and when she was assured the blade wouldn't drop to the floor, signaling their approach, she turned and lay one hand on the iron handle of the door.


	7. Chapter 7

**Sleeping with the Enemy**

**Chapter 20**

**Deanlu and Roo**

**Dedicated to Renee O'Connor **

**Disclaimer: ****The characters in Xena: Warrior Princess are the property of MCA/Universal and Renaissance Pictures. No copyright infringement is intended. This fan fiction may be copied for personal use only, may not be sold, and must contain all notices of copyright. **

**Acknowledgments: ****The authors of this story wish to thank the following individuals: Atalanta, Anon. for their more than occasional constructive input; gratuitous thanks to XWPWarrioress, executive story consultant; EMartin(toao) for the cover concept and design; and Mit18 for her selfless work at the presentation of this manuscript. Thank you.**

**Copyright 1997 "Two Bards Writing". This work may not be reproduced and sold without expressed written permission of the authors herein. **

**The Madman, the Mystic, the Warrior and her Bard'**

The handle turned unassisted in her hand and the door swept soundlessly back. In the glow of torches lit at intervals on the walls, Xena could see Hesperos standing before the dias, smugly expectant. "Welcome, Xena...Elkton."

Social pleasantries aside, Xena wanted nothing more than to fly across the room, vault over the dias and wipe that smug smile from Hesperos face.

Elkton had the same thought, but warrior and mystic, sharing the same discipline, the same focus, held themselves in exquisite check. "Hesperos, said Elkton, making a place for himself at Xena's side. "You might at least have the decency to look surprised to see us..."

Hesperos loosed a single derisive note of laughter; in the confines of the crypt, there was an echoing, booming retort. "You were sent for and expected, and I should feign surprise? Please, come in...join us." He gestured broadly with the sweep of his arm. "Hurry in to your deaths."

"I wouldn't make any plans for the future, either, if I was you, " Xena quipped. She eased into the room on the balls of her feet, scanning the interior as she did so. She could make out the suggestion of Manus' body in repose behind Hesperos...but there was no Gabrielle.

"That's far enough, Xena," Hesperos said, raising a hand. "And you, Elkton, come all the way in...where I can see you."

Even as he complied, Elkton felt Manus' presence, that unwelcome second skin, slip from him, leaving him feeling curiously vacant and unnerved. As long as the two mystics had battled for control of his consciousness, Elkton felt some comfort in knowing where to find his enemy. He likened the experience to holding a lethal viper by the tail, but now he had the uncomfortable feeling Manus was beyond his reach, and therefore, beyond retribution.

"Retribution..." said Hesperos. Meeting Elkton's gaze when the mystic's head snapped up, he seemed to relax. "Divine...or otherwise...I hope you're both prepared to die."

"Wouldn't you care to stall for time?"

Conciliatory. "I thought, Elkton, in your last minutes on this earth, you might appreciate the honesty."

"Oh, yeah, very refreshing," retorted Xena drolly. Elkton leaned into her and whispered something, at the same time gesturing at the empty braces above the largest of the tapestries in the room. The sword of Psyche was missing, but Xena seemed unconcerned, so single minded was her quest. "Where's Gabrielle?"

"I like that, Xena, straight to the point." Hesperos was silent for a moment, his gray eyes vague. Presently, as if alerted by some internal signal, he smiled, but the gesture seemed more predatory than friendly. "As your time is short, I'll spare you any further delay. You want to see your young friend?"

"You know we do," countered Elkton.

"Gabrielle!" Xena called, her eyes sweeping the room. Hesperos laughed. Xena snapped a dangerous gaze on the cook and twirled the short sword absently in her hand; it cut the air with an impressive whoosh. "What've you done with her, Hesperos?" He smiled vaguely but she thought she recognized the ghost of fear in his eyes. "Gabrielle!" Xena exclaimed, real frustration telling her in voice.

"Bellow all you like, Xena," said Hesperos, and then gentled his tone, "But it is the whisper she hears." He kept a steady gaze trained on the warrior while stepping to one side and elegantly extending his left arm towards the dias behind him. As expected, Manus lay, still and cold, on the dias; it was the appearance of Gabrielle which gave Xena pause. The bard lay sleeping beside her master, her knees drawn slightly into his hip, one arm draped across his chest, her head tucked beneath his strong chin. To the uninformed, the two might appear as lovers, wrapped in Morpheus' arms, but Xena knew better. She opened her mouth, intent on rousing the girl, but raising a finger to his lips, Hesperos admonished, "Shh, now..." He wagged that same finger at her for emphasis. "You were about to wake her." He moved lazily behind the dias. "She presents the picture of innocence when asleep, don't you agree?" One of Hesperos' hands fell lecherously upon Gabrielle's shoulder.

The muscles in Xena's jaw jumped. "Touch her again...you die."

Without warning, Hesperos produced a fine-bladed dagger from within the folds of his robes. Laying the blade aside the sleeping girl's throat he said, "I don't respond well to threats, Xena."

"Funny," retorted Xena. "Neither do I."

Hesperos' brow furrowed in genuine confusion. "Did I not deliver Gabrielle as promised? For here she lies..." He drew the blade feather-soft along the bard's jawline, and with his free hand, tucked a strand of honey-gold hair behind her ear. "Whole...and yet fragmented...empty, yet full...yours...and yet...not yours."

From his place at the warrior's side, Elkton could just see the muscles beneath Xena's bronzed skin jumping, humming along the impressive frame that would, within microseconds, explode across the room in a breathtaking display of grace and fury...and death. Yes, thought the mystic. He knew without question that there would be death at the end of it all, and he knew, too, that Xena would be as surprised as those who claimed she could not be killed, to find herself mortally wounded at the hands of a cook. For all her bravery, wits and skills, Elkton knew that Xena did not know her enemy as well as she suspected. "Now, Xena," he began, using the lull in conversation to quell her fire if he could. "Surely Hesperos here is a man who can be reasoned with..."

FAITH IS YOUR WEAPON, Manus' whisper found a receptive ear. OR IS THAT JUST SOMETHING YOU TELL YOUR STUDENTS?

"I'm not here to harm you, Hesperos," said the mystic; to demonstrate the point, and his faith, Elkton let the heavy short sword slip from his fingers to the stone floor.

"Elkton, are you crazy?" Xena's eyes glowed with anger, but Elkton's steady, unflinching gaze was centered on Hesperos. When the mystic spoke again, Xena recognized that familiar, hypnotic note of calm that had so enraptured Gabrielle in the temple kitchens and at last she understood.

"I'm going to give you a piece of advice, Hesperos..." crooned Elkton. "...and you're going to take it." Hesperos, his glazed eyes half closed, cocked his head, listening intently. "Walk out of here. Walk out of here and leave Manus to us."

"Leave Manus..." came the monotone echo.

LEAVE ME? DREAM ON. YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO...

Elkton shook his head violently, a single jerk, an intent to dislodge his unwelcome tenant. "Leave Manus to us..." Elkton continued once he found his voice. He gave Xena a sideways glance and he could see that she was poised on the balls of her feet, waiting for an opening. "Put the blade down and walk out of here, Hesperos..."

Abruptly, Hesperos snorted and threw his head back in a soundless laugh. "Save your breath to cool your soup, old man, and save those meager psychic energies, as well...you're going to need them."

"I'll make you this offer only once," Elkton continued, dropping his voice for effect. "Leave this temple while I still have some influence over -" The old mystic stole a meaningful glance at Xena and hoped Hesperos got the inference. "- things. Leave now. Run as far and as fast as you can." He raised a bushy eyebrow at the younger man and tried to gauge the impact of his words; Hesperos was stone-faced. "If the end goes badly, I can guarantee you won't live to see another day." Elkton let out a gasp of surprise when he felt the tip of a sword press firmly into the small of his back. Over his shoulder, Phyus glared at him with intent. "Phyus, what're you doing?"

"I would have thought that would be abundantly clear, Elkton," interjected Hesperos, even as the second of the two sentries, Androcles, approached Xena to disarm her. "Your sword, Xena..."

Xena felt a hard knob bear down on her spine and she cursed herself she hadn't seen the ambush coming. She recalled that the armed sentries, prostrate at the crypt entrance, had both appeared deeply comatose, like the villagers. She hadn't considered them much of a threat, less so after she had put one of their weapons into Elkton's hand, a weapon which he had discarded at the first opportunity. She set her jaw and groaned inwardly. Later, providing she was still alive to dally in reflection, she might attribute her lapse of attention to exhaustion, or anxiety. She looked at the discarded blade, cold and gleaming on the stone floor and was reluctant to surrender her own sword to gravity.

"Your sword, Xena," Hesperos reiterated with all of the conviction he could muster.

SHE MUST RELINQUISH THE WEAPON, HESPEROS. SHE MUST BE MADE TO PROSTRATE HERSELF BEFORE THE DIAS.

One sword at Elkton's back, the other on the floor...DO THE MATH, XENA! Logical thought rallied in her head. HE WANTS YOUR SWORD BECAUSE HE ISN'T ARMED. "Careful with that finger," she drawled, stealing a glance over her shoulder. "You might hurt someone." Androcles looked down at his hand. Convinced there had been an immaculate blade clutched in his strong fingers only moments earlier, now he could see only his knuckle jammed painfully against the small of Xena's back. He looked up at her, and almost before alarm had time to register on his face, she gave a small cry and head butted him, connecting solidly with the bridge of his nose. He fell to the floor in a crimson blossom of blood and bone, and did not move.

Hesperos' hands came together twice, and when she turned to face him, he said, "I'm impressed, Xena." That was no lie. Hesperos admired her defiance, had indeed anticipated it with something akin to delight. From his place at Manus' altar, he gazed into the fathomless depths of her azure eyes, and beyond. He could read determination there, cunning, and a controlled rage; she cared for her own life only slightly more than she cared for his, and armed or unarmed, that made her immeasurably dangerous. "Now. I will ask one more time," he said at last, fixing the younger sentry, Phyus, in his sights. Elkton sucked a burst of air across his teeth as his robe was torn and the cold metal blade touched exposed skin. "Drop your sword."

YESSSSSSSSS

"Don't do it, Xena!" Elkton said.

DO IT!

Phyus forced the old mystic to his knees. "It doesn't matter what happens to me, Xena," Elkton cried. "Don't submit."

"I can kill with a word, Xena," said Hesperos with a quirk on his lips.

"Big surprise. You're boring me to death," quipped Xena, even as she unclenched her fingers from the sword hilt to hold it more loosely at her side.

"Xena...look at me, Xena..." When the warrior turned to regard him, Elkton gave a small shrug and said, "I'll surrender, Xena...so you don't have to." The old mystic slumped to the floor, putting space between his vulnerable back and Phyus' sword.

Xena used the younger man's momentary confusion at losing his hostage to her advantage; with a speed that belied her exhaustion, she employed a roundhouse kick, sweeping the sword from his grasp; before it hit the floor, Phyus collapsed to his knees, rendered uncon- scious by a blow he had never seen coming. Xena knelt at the old mystic's side and put a finger to his throat; his pulse was slow and steady. He was alive, but she feared for him, as she feared for Gabrielle. That thought galvanized her. Sword in hand, she moved unhesitatingly towards the dias.

The blade in Hesperos' hand dented the tender flesh of the sleeping girl's throat. "Submit, Xena. I'm warning you...I'll do it!"

"You know, Hesperos," she began leisurely, as if she had all night, "there are necessary times of truce...this isn't one of them." She stepped upon the dias and was close enough now to reach out and touch the sleeping girl's boot, to see her eyes flicking wildly behind closed lids, and to hear her soft breathing. The bard was either totally at ease with her current predicament, or totally ignorant of it.

"Last warning, Xena..." Hesperos murmured, passing his tongue over his dry lips. Sweat had gathered at the tips of his hair...the little trembling movements he made rained salty droplets into his eyes. "Move and she dies."

From her vantage point at Manus' feet, Xena could see a tiny crimson pearl form on the tip of Hesperos' knife and then roll lazily down the length of the blade...a little more pressure, together with a clean, horizontal jerk would effectively end the standoff. "Do it."

Hesperos blinked and stared at her dumbfounded. "What did you say?"

Xena took one calculated step towards him, crossed her body with the short sword and settled the blade in the crook of her elbow. "I said do it'...cut her throat...or are you all talk?"


	8. Chapter 8

**Sleeping with the Enemy**

**Chapters 21**

**Deanlu and Roo**

**Dedicated to Renee O'Connor **

**Disclaimer: ****The characters in Xena: Warrior Princess are the property of MCA/Universal and Renaissance Pictures. No copyright infringement is intended. This fan fiction may be copied for personal use only, may not be sold, and must contain all notices of copyright. **

**Acknowledgments: ****The authors of this story wish to thank the following individuals: Atalanta, Anon. for their more than occasional constructive input; gratuitous thanks to XWPWarrioress, executive story consultant; EMartin(toao) for the cover concept and design; and Mit18 for her selfless work at the presentation of this manuscript. Thank you.**

**Copyright 1997 "Two Bards Writing". This work may not be reproduced and sold without expressed written permission of the authors herein. **

**Chapter XXI**

**'The Madman, the Mystic, the Warrior and her Bard' **

"Wh...what about your bargain with Manus?" Hesperos stammered, his control sliding from beneath him, drawn inexorably downstream in a fast-moving current of fear. "Does your friend's life mean so little to you after all?"

"My friend's life is everything to me," replied Xena pointedly.

YOU HAVE THE ADVANTAGE, HESPEROS! PRESS IT! NOTHING UNDERMINES OUR CAUSE SO MUCH AS FAILURE TO EXECUTE A THREAT!

Hesperos swallowed deeply and tightened his grip on the hilt of the dagger; his hand was beginning to cramp. BUT SHE KNOWS, LORD...

SHE SUSPECTS. YOU SEE HOW SHE'S MANEUVERED HERSELF TO WITHIN ARM'S REACH OF YOU. DON'T LET HER DRAW YOU IN. IT'S THE SAME FASCINATION THAT MAKES THE COBRA STARE AT THE MONGOOSE!

Hesperos was silent, implying understanding and consent where there was neither. In the confines of his mind, tucked neatly between memory and conscience, beyond Manus' reach, he bemoaned his lack of free will to deny or disagree, or more appropriately at this moment, to run and save himself. Standing there at the dais, less than ten paces from Xena, he knew he was the cobra...and he knew what fate awaited the cobra. He came to himself at last to find Xena looking at him intently; in the vague light of the room, Hesperos conceded how little their mutual contemplation of one another did to resolve matters. "How can you be so certain that this isn't Gabrielle?"

Almost imperceptibly, Xena's posture became a little straighter. "Because I know something you don't know, Hesperos: Gabrielle snores."

Hesperos' brow furrowed, and in the ensuing lull in conversation he didn't fail to notice that his hostage slept as soundlessly as the dead. He lifted his blade and his gaze at once; Xena was smiling at him out of the corner of her mouth. He smiled back. "Very perceptive, Xena."

I HAVE MINUTES, HESPEROS, AND YOU ARE STALLING! Manus' voice, formerly soft and sibilant, took on a strident, impatient tone. MY ENERGIES AND ATTENTIONS ARE NEEDED ELSEWHERE. KNOW THEN THAT I EXPECT YOU TO ACT ON YOUR PART AS AGREED!

Hesperos dug the tip of his little finger in his ear and addressed Xena civilly, as if they were conversing over a flagon of wine. "You do a lot of talking, Xena, for a warrior."

The observation took Xena off guard. "Does that unnerve you?"

"It surprises me,"Hesperos replied, wiping the tip of the blade on his sleeve where it left a small crimson wedge, stark against the white fabric. "It's been my experience that there are only two reasons why a warlord would engage his enemy in conversation."

Xena snorted and lifted an eyebrow, begging elaboration, while unchallenged, she situated herself alongside the dais, parallel to and directly in front of Hesperos.

"One is to negotiate treaties and terms of surrender." In the diffused light of the torches, Hesperos' eyes held only menace; surrender was not on his personal agenda. "And the other..."

"The other..." interjected Xena, tracking Hesperos' wavering gaze "...is to maneuver your enemy into a better position to strike." She was mere milliseconds away from sending Hesperos to Tartarus- no countdown, no conscience. But even as her fingers trembled unseen, poised to deliver the killing blow, fate spared Hesperos an agonizing death at Xena's hands.

The ex-priest cried out, screwing his face into a mask of pain. He lurched forward over Manus' body, incapacitated by something only he could hear - his master's wounded, strangled howl of protest. Xena watched in confusion. Whatever possessed the cook had much the same effect as her lethal pinch, yet gave her none of the satisfaction. Momentarily, the psychic attack drove Hesperos to his knees beside the dais, where he lay curled in a fetal position, hands clasped firmly over his ears, his mouth opened in a soundless wail. Xena hoped it was as painful as it appeared; perhaps it was a holdover from her warlord days, but there was still some small part of her that would have been content to sip from the cook's pain indefinitely.

Had she not detected movement behind her, she might be staring at him still. Her keen ears had just perceived the faint rustle of fabric as a potentially lethal downswing rent the stale air. At the last possible moment, she turned at the waist, deflecting a blow that would have certainly split her skull. Her weapon connected with the sharp edge of her own broadsword, wielded by the animated twin of the sleeping girl on the dais. The shock of the blow resonated through Xena's arms and she was more than a little surprised at the bard's strength. The girl drew the heavy sword back with both hands, preparing for another blow; the sight of her own weapon in the hands of the gentle bard rocked Xena to her core. Driven by instinct, but tempered by compassion, the warrior pivoted at the hip, delivering a side kick which sent the second Gabrielle reeling back into the tapestry, the broadsword flying from her fingertips. Without pausing, Xena wheeled and, grasping fistfuls of the ancient tapestry, ripped it violently from its braces. The girl disappeared beneath a cloud of dust and heavy brocade. Xena barely had time to marvel at the ease of her opponent's defeat when bright pain exploded at the small of her back, below her ribs, and she fell heavily to her knees. Taking advantage of Xena's preoccupation, the sleeping girl had risen from the dais and struck an unexpected kidney blow with the butt end of her sword. Recovering quickly, Xena pulled her legs beneath her and performed a graceful spinning kick, her foot just grazing the girl's chin, sending her flailing gracelessly over the dais. Xena scrambled, exchanging the clumsy short sword for the comfortable familiarity of her broadsword. From a standing position, she somersaulted over Manus' prone body, loosing her warcry, and engaged the girl in combat.

HESPEROS! HESPEROS! ON YOUR FEET, YOU CRAVEN, GUTTED COWARD!

Hesperos groaned, limp and barely conscious. His arms and legs felt leaden and it was an effort to move at all. The voice inside his mind swallowed him whole, headfirst, and ground and shredded him against unyielding molars until he prayed for oblivion to take him. He took his hands away from his ears and inspected them for blood, the pain had been that acute, but his palms held nothing but cold, clammy fear.

GET UP I TELL YOU! I NEED YOU!

Slow to respond, Hesperos opened his eyes to a painful slit. MASTER...WHAT CAN I DO?

GET UP...TAKE YOUR...TAKE THE DAGGER...I NEED YOU TO KILL -

TO KILL. While the request did not surprise Hesperos, the wavering timber of his master's voice, and the genuine fear behind it did. With the last reserves of his strength, he rose on shaky knees and scanned the immediate area for the errant dagger.

Even as Hesperos rose, fingers closed over the hilt of his dagger, the heavy tapestry behind him lurched and shifted, burbled and popped like a pot of stew left to boil over a roaring fire. Raging, inarticulate cries emanated from beneath the tapestry's faded images, growing steadily more anxious until at last a form emerged gasping for breath. Pausing momentarily to gain her bearings and take in lungfuls of stale air, the girl's first thought was to arm herself. She groped about on the floor for a weapon where her fingers grasped the hilt of the short sword earlier discarded by Xena. To the sounds of a pitched battle, she rose to her feet, peering across the dais to confirm her suspicions - the enemy lived. In a vision she knew had been planted by her master, she saw herself engaged in a fierce duel with Xena, and she saw her enemy seconds away from death at her hands. It was her master's gift to her; a prophecy of peace so long promised, so devoutly desired.

KILL!

She would kill Xena. It was as certain as the sunrise. Testing the weight of the blade in her hands, she felt almost serene about her decision. She vaulted effortlessly over the dais and raced to dispatch her enemy and did not seem at all surprised to find herself rubbing elbows and sharing space with her doppleganger.

It wasn't the first time Xena had found herself facing attack on two fronts, parrying thrusts and blows, delivering her own, but she sensed it might be her last. The three women circled one another warily, in a dance of sorts, their swords ringing out in concert, and as the two Gabrielles wheeled and shifted, it was all Xena could do to pull her punches and keep straight who was who. Both girls were quick and committed, ferocious in a way Xena hadn't expected. In her head, she gave them separate identities. Gabrielle One wielded the heavy, ceremonial Sword of Psyche with ease, but with more imagination than action. She appeared to be weighing her options, economizing her body movements, and saving her energies. In direct contrast, Gabrielle Two, armed with a short sword, cared nothing for finesse or style. Driven by raw emotions, she plunged headlong into the fray, her hateful eyes for that singular moving target at her sword point. It was the hate that gave her away. Moving gracefully about the room, trading blows with virtual twins, each a mirror image of the other, Xena made a conscious decision to kill one...while the other survived at all costs.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Hesperos on his hands and knees, moving sluggishly, but with murderous intent, dagger in hand, towards the unconscious form of Elkton, who lay sprawled vulnerably on the cold stone floor. In a battle that called for every skill and ounce of energy she possessed, Xena disarmed both Gabrielles with one powerful sweeping kick; even as their weapons were skittering across the stone floor, her powerful thighs and calves propelled her high into the air. In her trademark sizzorkick, her outstretched legs delivered a powerful blow to each of her opponents, sending them reeling back into the shadows while she reached simultaneously for her chakram. Hefting it, preparing to throw, she said, "Put the dagger down, Hesperos or lose an arm!"

Hesperos' lips pulled back in a defiant snarl. "Not a chance, Xena. What do I care for arms or legs if the Master is not made flesh again?"

Xena assumed it was a rhetorical question. "Come on..." she moved her hands apart, in seeming supplication. "Face me." His face was bathed in perspiration, and she could hear him breathing hard, and though she suspected her offer appealed to him on some level, his will was not his own. "Think about it, Hesperos...would you rather be known as the murderer of a defenseless old priest...or as the man who killed Xena?"

"I can be both!" Hesperos rose to his knees, preparing to thrust the dagger into Elkton.

Without a moment's hesitation, Xena hurled the chakram; a straight line being the shortest distance between life and death, it moved unerringly towards its target and nestled deeply between the cook's fourth and fifth ribs. From across the crypt, Hesperos' eyes locked on hers, conveying more disbelief than pain. His executioner, however, merely raised an indifferent eyebrow. Using his last energies to confirm what he suspected, he looked down at his body. Blood welled at the site of the injury, and he could taste it, salty and metallic in his mouth - death had a flavor. As his fingers contacted the metal chakram, still warm from her grip, he said, "This is...unexpected..." With his master's name soundless upon his lips, he fell dead across Elkton's body. The old mystic stirred at the contact. Xena's weary sigh of relief stuttered in her throat when she heard a heavy-footed approach; the girl burst from the shadows, without caution or subtlety, as if she knew that no amount of subterfuge could have given her the upper hand against a warrior of Xena's skills. But she was brandishing the Sword of Psyche, which Xena knew she could use to good effect.

Loosing an incomprehensible stream of expletives, Gabrielle, HER Gabrielle, attacked with abandon, charging with raw power and emotion. There was intense hatred in her eyes as she hammered the sharp edge of her sword against Xena's own. Xena marveled at the strength in each of those blows; Gabrielle's own natural skills had been augmented and amplified by Manus' conditioning and so it was inevitable that the first articulate words from her mouth were not her own. "Die, bitch! Why won't you die!?"

Xena blinked, unable to disguise her reaction. The ferocity of that statement, and the commitment that lay behind each of the potentially lethal blows raining down upon her awakened deep-seated feelings of apprehension, and fear. Mercifully, Gabrielle's unflinching assault did not allow much time for introspection. The girl seemed relentless, inexhaustible, and Xena suspected it would take time to wear down Gabrielle's physical reserves - precious minutes she didn't have to spare. Known to be creative under pressure, Xena: Warrior Princess, supreme battlefield technician, took on the role of peacemaker. She consciously slowed her responses, giving her blade a little more play with each of her opponent's strikes, drawing the girl into her. When they were practically nose to nose, one face cool and calculating, the other a grimacing, hateful mask, she said, "Gabrielle...listen to me..." Gabrielle's response was to push away and fire off a vicious downswing which Xena barely avoided; the blade gouged a pillar behind her and Xena used her close proximity to knee her opponent in the gut. The girl collapsed to her knees, fighting for breath. "Gabrielle," Xena appealed, but kept her weapon at the ready. "You don't have to do this!"

GET UP! YOU'RE WEAK...A WEAK, PATHETIC FOOL. Manus was unmistakably disgusted and he had no qualms about using every tool at his disposal to wring the proper response from this instrument of retribution. YOU DISAPPOINT ME.

"For Gaia's sake, Gabrielle," crooned Xena, compassion coloring her delivery. "Put the sword down. I want to help you."

Gabrielle narrowed her eyes at the warrior, hearing the pity in her voice. Recognizing that a verbal strike could be at least as powerful as a physical blow when the victim is vulnerable, she made a cold, calculated decision. Raising her head slowly, she locked eyes with Xena, her hate an unquenchable fire and said, "Fuck you, Warrior Princess." Watching Xena's face twitch, her lips quirk and then harden to a flat line, Gabrielle was encouraged to know her enemy could be so profoundly wounded by simple words. This minor victory stirred her into action. Using legs made strong and supple by hundreds of hours of walking, she launched herself at Xena, driving her elbow up under Xena's throat, propelling her backwards into a sharp corner of the dais. How perfect that her enemy, and the Master's nemesis should die at his feet, with her blood soaking his robes. Raising her sword arm, Gabrielle brought the blade back and across in a sweeping arc that would behead her enemy and free her master.

With her back jammed painfully into unyielding stone, and Gabrielle's full weight behind the forearm crushed against her windpipe, Xena struggled for breath. Out of the corner of her half-closed eyes, she saw the polished steel blade moving towards her, but she was not alarmed. Even half-conscious she could see the trajectory was all wrong. All power and no direction, the blade whistled above her head and sliced a four inch gash in Manus' thigh. Blood welled in a thick, dark line. Xena could see the girl was mesmerized by the sight, by the enormity of her error, and she used the distraction to her advantage, popping her opponent in the chin to give herself some room to maneuver.

Gabrielle yelped, having bitten her tongue, but she made no move to wipe the blood from her chin. Blood made hands slick - at this stage, she couldn't afford to be disarmed again by her enemy. This new weapon was heavier and more unwieldy than a short sword, and it took both hands for her to use it competently. She stepped back, breathing hard, and began a crab-like movement, circling her opponent, eyes casting about for the edge she knew would put Xena at her mercy. Inside a head that was whirling with emotions both foreign and familiar, she cast about for her master, for the cold comfort of his aura. At a time and in a place where Manus should have been an all-consuming presence, he was curiously absent. Had her wounding of him shaken whatever faith he had left in her? Had he abandoned her for a more capable servant? The thought unnerved her, but only temporarily. Catching a glimpse of herself in the highly-polished blade in her hand, she saw a picture of ferocious commitment. She looked up and across the room at her enemy and saw that same commitment mirrored in Xena's face.

At that very moment, Elkton was struggling to his feet, still reeling under the effects of his recent battle with Manus. He was censuring himself for retreating from the dreamscape, certain that his cowardice had cost them all dearly. As he took in the scene - Hesperos dead at his feet, Xena and Gabrielle squared off in battle, the Sword of Psyche in the employ of evil - he wondered briefly if he was yet fully awake. The Sword. Something nagged at him, some little detail, long ago committed to an imperfect memory. Now, seconds from the height of Solstice, amidst the din and clamor of combat, he struggled to remember. "Xena!" he called desperately, catching her eye. "What can I do?"

Her response, typically monosyllabic, was punctuated by the arrhythmic clash of steel against steel. "Elkton." CLANG. "Yeah." CLANG. CLANG. "I need you to do something."

"Anything!" He winced as she took an elbow to the chin.

"There's a girl somewhere in those shadows..." CLANG. CLANG. "...sleeping off a headache...find her!" CLANG-SKEEEEEEEEEEL. The Sword of Psyche slid angrily down the length of Xena's blade, casting off a shower of sparks until it came to a stop at the pommel above Xena's hand. They were mere inches apart, warrior and bard, trading breaths, and for one precious moment, Xena stared into a pair of vivid blue-green eyes, prospecting for her friend. Before she could make any determinations one way or the other, Gabrielle grew uncomfortable with the scrutiny and pushed away from the clinch. From there, the battle pitched and moved around the dais, ranging over the entire room. Xena took a half dozen good strikes, little licks that nibbled at her confidence and self-control, and somewhere in the confines of that tiny room, she came to the realization that far from simply defending herself, she was battling to stay alive. She could feel her fighting instincts beginning to take control and although she was determined to win against her opponent, the last thing she wanted to do was injure the bard.

SO SINGLE MINDED. The phrase just came to her, whispering at the edges of conscious thought. While this was Manus' territory, it was not his voice. It was Elkton's. I'VE NEVER KNOWN ANYONE SO SINGLE MINDED.

GET OUT OF MY HEAD, ELKTON, Xena warned. As she moved around the floor, alternately gaining and losing the upper hand, she could see him, eyes closed in deep concentration, poised just where the torchlight began to fall on the stone floor, the unconscious twin of Gabrielle slumped at his side.

I HAVE A PLAN, XENA - IF YOU'LL TRUST ME. As there wasn't time for hesitancy, she agreed with a resounding 'YES!' To avoid intervention from Manus, the details of Elkton's plan were deliberately vague, calling for faith from a woman who knew only cold, hard facts. Elkton's plan, such as it was, came in the form of an ambiguous statement - two words he'd heard tumbling about in her subconscious - ONE LIFE.


	9. Chapter 9

**Sleeping with the Enemy**

**Chapter 22**

**Deanlu and Roo**

**Dedicated to Renee O'Connor **

**Disclaimer: ****The characters in Xena: Warrior Princess are the property of MCA/Universal and Renaissance Pictures. No copyright infringement is intended. This fan fiction may be copied for personal use only, may not be sold, and must contain all notices of copyright. **

**Acknowledgments: ****The authors of this story wish to thank the following individuals: Atalanta, Anon. for their more than occasional constructive input; gratuitous thanks to XWPWarrioress, executive story consultant; EMartin(toao) for the cover concept and design; and Mit18 for her selfless work at the presentation of this manuscript. Thank you.**

**Copyright 1997 "Two Bards Writing". This work may not be reproduced and sold without expressed written permission of the authors herein. **

Chapter XXII

'Pawns'

_One life._ A promise extracted under extreme duress. The old man looked down at girl stirring beside him, waking from her enforced nap. One life. He looked back up at Xena and understood the meaning behind the phrase. _One Life. That doesn't sound unreasonable to me._

_Elkton!_ Xena protested vehemently, but she didn't fail to notice that the psychic link between them had intensified. Anger gave it definition and focus.

Elkton shook himself from his reverie, aware that Xena's patience was far from infinite. As the girl beside him groaned and tried to get to her feet, he gripped her shoulder as tightly as his injured arm would permit and turned his focus again to the life and death struggle taking place on the crypt floor, a battle that unfolded in peaks and troughs. Gabrielle, winded, bruised and bloodied, was tiring from wielding the heavy blade. Periodically her sword point would dip, gouging the stone floor, only to be swept upwards or across violently with little warning. He suspected that it was only a combination of her youth and Manus' conditioning which kept her on her feet. Xena's size and natural skills and gifts as a warrior made the outcome of this battle a foregone conclusion. But he knew, too, that the battle was only the smaller picture. There was a war to be fought and won. _Listen to me, Xena_...The words flew out of his mind with passionate impatience. _What I'm going to ask you to do will be against your nature, against the warrior's code you follow. But bear with me and -_

"Elkton!" _Clang!_ "Spit it out!" Xena growled.

"Surrender, Xena!" Elkton exclaimed; he'd said it aloud...anyone with ears to hear in the confines of the crypt had heard it. The girl whose arm he held stopped struggling and clapped a pair of particularly mesmerizing green eyes upon him in a gaze that was both surprised and familiar. Yes, he thought, without a doubt, he had seen that expression before on the face of another. Reluctantly, he moved his gaze to the duel still transpiring on the crypt floor; far from yielding the battle, Xena appeared to have her opponent on the defensive. _Xena_...Elkton reiterated forcefully when he saw her disarm Gabrielle. _Do-you-understand?_

_Surrender. I heard you, Elkton_...Xena saw the Sword of Psyche skitter noisily across the floor. ..._ The whole room heard you!_

Gabrielle stared at her empty hands, dumbfounded. "Useless..." she muttered and looked up at Xena, every last ounce of defiance contained in her steady gaze, and the set of her jaw. Weaponless, defeated, she took the time to wipe her bloody mouth against the back of her hand.

Xena softened at the sight of the blood she had drawn. Her sword drifted slowly to her side, hanging parallel to her thigh. How many times had a beaten enemy begged for mercy at her feet? Her conscience was cluttered with such scenes - warlords and slaves, villagers and soldiers - whom had offered themselves before her similarly, prepared to meet death at her hand. She had rarely disappointed. And then Hercules put her on another path...and Gabrielle, her moral compass, kept her from straying. She was only here to defeat Manus because Gabrielle had made it possible, and as much as she owed the bard a quick, painless death, she owed her a long, fulfilling life, too.

_Xena,_ whispered Elkton fiercely. _Trust me... Surrender_

Xena didn't have the heart to tell him that both her fate and her faith rested in other hands. Looking down at the familiar blade, bloodied, pitted and nicked, she marveled at the ease with which she came to a difficult decision.

"What're you waiting for?" Gabrielle asked, her chin jutting defiantly. "I wouldn't hesitate to kill you."

"I'm counting on it," replied Xena evenly. GODS FORGIVE ME. She brought up her sword and presented it to Gabrielle, hilt first. It floated there, weightless and expectant and Xena could see the girl was considering the offer.

_No...no...this is too good,_ Manus crooned in disbelief. He had expected Xena to renege on her promise the same way a liar expects to be lied to. _The Warrior Princess dies on her own sword, at the hands of her best friend. Morpheus be praised! It's practically a suicide!_ He crowed with delight. _It's so poetically perfect, don't you agree, child?_

"It's a trick," said Gabrielle, her fingertips poised inches from the weapon.

"No trick," said Xena, with tender exasperation. When she saw the girl's fingers close over the hilt, taking the weight of the blade, Xena slowly fell to one knee.

Neglecting his charge, Elkton rose to his feet beside the girl and exclaimed, "Xena, no!"

"Stay out of this, Elkton!" retorted Xena, her eyes locked on the hate-filled green orbs glaring down the length of the blade which was leveled just above the hollow of her throat. All it would take is a few pounds of pressure...she'd seen enough botched executions in her lifetime to know that a frontal strike, at the jugular, would bring a relatively quick and painless death. Sensing the girl's hesitation, Xena leaned into the blade, drawing her own blood. "This is what you wanted...isn't it?"

"By the gods, Xena," cried Elkton, leaving the passive 'Gabrielle' to her own devices while he moved cautiously forward. "You don't know what you're doing..."

Xena looked at him peripherally and said through clenched teeth, "Elkton, get back!"

Elkton watched the scene unfold in horror. He felt responsible and helpless. He'd argued for surrender, but it wasn't supposed to end this way. In his arrogance, he had considered himself a player in Manus' game, when he was nothing more than a pawn. The true architect lay supine and scheming, and all but triumphant on his dais.

Heedless of the conflict between mystic and warrior, Gabrielle stared transfixed at the crimson rivulet running down Xena's throat, into her leather bodice; she found herself taking a step backward. With nothing to rest upon, the sword in her hand dipped, yielding to gravity.

"Thank the gods," whispered Elkton, turning his eyes to the ceiling.

_What're you doing?_ Manus inquired carefully because as much as he loathed her hesitation, he feared it, too. With Hesperos dead, he could not afford to alienate her. _You're so very close, child_...he soothed, sounding very much like a proud father. _Peace is a sword stroke away. Kill Xena. Set me free and I will grand you the peace you desire and deserve, but you must hurry!_

"I don't know if I can..." Gabrielle murmured aloud.

Mercy? Indecision? Where did that come from? Manus fought down the natural urge to prod, to possess. Instead he wheedled, cajoled and coaxed - a technique that had proven successful with this subject in the past. _I know what you have suffered at the hands of this woman. Abuse. Betrayal. Your young husband dead by her hand. The sword in your hand is justice. You owe him that. So, take her head. Strike her down!_

_But...it's murder..._

Conscience now? Inwardly, Manus groaned and adjusted his argument accordingly. _It's suicide, child,_ he countered sweetly. _Xena recognizes her culpability in the events that have transpired in the past. She offers you her sword because death by her own hand is cowardice. And such a thing is unfathomable to a warrior of her caliber. More than suicide. It's justice. Death at your hand is justice...for Perdicus. And Cyrene. Justice for Diana and Lila. You have an obligation to them._

Gabrielle drew in a deep breath, bringing the broad sword up and back until it rested on her right shoulder. She pursed her lips and set her jaw; if Xena was going to offer her head, then, by the gods, she was going to take it.

Xena's thoughts were similarly pragmatic. Beheading, she mused, when done by the inexperienced was messy and painful. More often than not, it took repeated blows to completely sever the head from the body. She wondered whose idea it had been. She watched her friend's face harden, watched the sword bobble and waver as it hovered above Gabrielle's shoulder. From somewhere to her left, she sensed Elkton's nervous presence as he tried to maneuver into a better position. She could make out the nervous cadence of the other Gabrielle chanting 'No no no no no...' She tuned it all out and focused her attentions on the intent features of her friend and executioner.

_Enough! Take her head and be done with it!_ Manus fumed impatiently. _Seconds! I have seconds, child!_

"Any last words?" Gabrielle asked, parodying Xena's trademark eyebrow lift.

Last words. In the instant before the blade began its devastating arc, Xena fixed on Gabrielle's face. In her arrogance, her innate desire to set right what had gone so terribly wrong, she had designated herself the girl's first kill. It seemed wholly inappropriate...and yet anything else was unthinkable if Manus was to be stopped. She would die in the presence of someone whom she loved best. It was all she'd ever hoped for in life. Only in that millisecond before she took the bard's blood innocence did she stop to consider how Gabrielle would feel, but by then, it was too late. _Forgive me, Gabrielle._ The vanquished, anticipating death, said simply, "Just do it."

Gabrielle's ears registered the flat command in Xena's voice, while her heart heard something altogether different. _Forgive me._; two words that had the impact of a forceful blow; she expelled a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. _Forgive me:_ a request, a command, a plea...however she chose to label it, the fact was that Xena had taken up residence in her head, and Gabrielle reflected that the fit was perfect.

_Forgive me? What rot!_ Manus had heard Xena's prayer as well and he recognized its potential, even if Gabrielle did not. _Focus, my child. Kill!_ Manus' voice cut incisively into the heavy, febrile atmosphere. _Kill her!_

Gabrielle flinched as if struck hard; it went without saying that, as an executioner, she was a disappointment. She tightened her two-fisted grip on the sword hilt and cringed as a new mantra made its way into her head. _Killkillkill... Kill!_ A one-word assault on the last remnants of her self-control. She looked down at Xena's face and felt a fresh resolve slide beneath her, like a good gravel bed in a fast moving stream. As the enormity of what she was about to do sunk in, the sword in her hand grew unbearably heavy and fell to rest on her shoulder. With her last ounce of strength, she threw open the doors and windows in the jumbled, confusing mass that had been Manus' playground. Light...clarity...memory...too long absent from conscious thought flooded the rooms, illuminating even the darkest recesses until she looked down at Xena with the expression of a woman who had just been shaken awake. For the first time in twenty-four hours, the bard focused on Xena in undeniable recognition. "Xena?" The broad sword drifted down slowly until it hung loosely from Gabrielle's fingertips. Meeting Xena's gaze, she was suddenly exhausted, her legs watery. The limitless reserve of energy from which she had drawn repeatedly over the last hours was nowhere to be found. Gone, too, was the hatred and rage, replaced by a weary confusion. She rummaged through her head, took a groping inventory of her heart, and shone a candle into her soul. To her surprise, Manus had moved out, and taken his tools with him. Gabrielle was stricken by a relief so profound her knees buckled. "Xena...what just happened?"

But Xena was too enraptured by the bard's familiar, perplexed expression to answer immediately. She got to her feet; she wanted to embrace the girl, but something in Gabrielle's stance kept her at a carefully measured distance. "Nightmare," she said. Then, sotto voce, with a wry smile, "Wakey, wakey." She reached out to steady the bard with one hand while the other relieved the girl of the heavy broadsword.

Gabrielle felt a warm hand close over her wrist, and her eyes traveled up the leather- bedecked arm to the concerned face of her friend, where she averted her gaze as she had only guilt and shame to show the warrior. As she looked away, she saw the mystic, Elkton, gaping at her in frank anticipation, and the prone form of Manus, as yet undisturbed on his altar. It was his still benign physical form that stirred her to action. "It's not over," she said, her face grave. "Manus hasn't been beaten."

"What're you talking about?" Xena followed Gabrielle's steady gaze to the dais where Manus lay, the deceptive picture of benevolence.

"He expects it," Gabrielle elaborated, turning again to Xena. "One life." She said it in the quiet, unexcited way that people save for the worst kind of disasters.

Xena's heart clenched in her chest and a wave of fierce protectiveness came over her. Narrowing her eyes and grinning, she said, "You just leave Manus to me." Taking the girl more firmly by the arm, she turned to the old mystic. "Elkton, take Gabrielle and -" She saw his eyes go wide as he focused on something, and then she heard the gasp - a whistling intake of breath that stole her own as she turned. What she saw caused the blood to drain from her face. Six inches of polished steel protruded from Gabrielle's chest, just below the hem of her top - the Sword of Psyche, sheathed in flesh and blood - and the look on the bard's face was more one of surprise than pain and for that, Xena was grateful. One glance from eyes that had seen many fatal wounds was enough to wring a strangled cry of anguish from Xena's throat; her sword slipped from nerveless fingers as she exchanged cold steel for warm flesh. And then, almost as quickly as the lethal blade had appeared, it was withdrawn from its victim with a slick, sickening hiss. As Xena bore her precious, lifeless burden to the floor, she caught her first glimpse of the murderer.


	10. Chapter 10

**Sleeping with the Enemy**

**Chapter 23**

**Deanlu and Roo**

'Bloodlust'

Distilled to jelly, Xena's legs folded beneath her. She drew the bard's lifeless body over her thighs to rest in her arms and sat there, numb, staring up in unabashed surprise at the murderer of her best friend. It was a cruel twist: to hold one twin, dying...dead, while the other looked down haughtily upon the scene. Xena found that as much as she tried, she could not form coherent thought, couldn't make any sense of what had just transpired - this dreamlike execution - and yet the blood on her hands seemed real enough. The sight of it filled her eyes with hot tears, but she willed them back. Weeping was an admission of defeat. She was far from defeated. She could act. She could exact revenge. As Gabrielle's warm blood coursed over her legs and pooled beneath her, Xena began compiling a mental list, only to be startled out of her reverie by the presence of a strong hand upon her shoulder. Without looking up, she knew it was Elkton.

My fault...my fault...He shook his head as he observed Xena, desolate, devastated over the body of her friend. The warrior whom some had said could not be moved shivered like a reed in a cool breeze. He wanted desperately to console her, to offer some explanation, but when he touched her mind he found there was no room for him, no room for his soothing rhetoric or self-serving excuses. He had always been a man of good intentions - as High Priest, prizing his connection with Morpheus and his intuitive grasp of things above all else. These aspects had served him well. Until tonight. Now, as he gazed down at Gabrielle's lifeless body, the greater implications of her death were lost to him. The image of Xena wordlessly rocking the body of her friend would be forever embedded in his memory. His total recall of this night would be his self-inflicted punishment and so it was with some reluctance that he centered his gaze on the young woman standing over Xena, and said, "Have you any idea what you've done?"

The girl tilted her head and furrowed her brow, perplexed by his attitude. "Oh, Teacher," she crooned. "Of course I do. You always taught us to think before we act."

Elkton's mouth worked convulsively for a second and a light passed behind his eyes. "Lysandra? Is that you? Or is this another of Manus' deceptions?"

Almost before the name had time to register on Xena's already ragged emotions, the much-loved features of her friend blurred and resolved themselves into the vaguely-familiar visage of Lysandra, a promising country bard and Elkton's prize pupil...storyteller, dream weaver ... murderer. She was taller than Gabrielle, by a head; she was not physically imposing, certainly not intimidating, and yet there was an unmistakable air of arrogance and superiority in her expression. A half-dozen gruesome and painful ways to wipe that smug smile from the girl's face sprang instantly into Xena's mind. With a care and patience that belied her inner turmoil, Xena lowered Gabrielle to the floor and stood, taking her time, looking at the blood that stained her, letting her anger flourish, replacing the incapacitating chill of grief.

Lysandra saw her own reflection mirrored in a cobalt blue gaze of pure, unadulterated hatred. She gripped and re-gripped the sword in her hand as she stared into those angry, accusing eyes, into the very face of pain and grief given physical form. Feeling compelled to speak, she gave voice to the first logical words to come to her. "It had to be done," she said, a look of studied insolence about her. "There is more at stake here than -"

With an inarticulate cry of rage, Xena was on her feet, propelling Lysandra mercilessly against one of the support columns; her body remained pinned there, suspended a full six inches above the floor by the indelicate placement of Xena's hands around her throat.

"Xena!" Elkton's hands gripped Xena's left forearm and tugged. His efforts were countered by unyielding bone and muscle. Mount Olympus would be more easily moved. "Xena, let her down!"

Lysandra sputtered and choked and looked fearlessly into Xena's toothy grimace. "You d...don't under..stand..." she croaked. She let the Sword of Psyche fall from her fingers. Her own hands clamped down upon Xena's and she forced a thumb between her throat and Xena's left hand. It was just enough. "Ask me why."

Xena retorted between clenched teeth, "You little shit!" She renewed her grip on the girl's throat. "Who died and made you Zeus?!"

Lysandra gasped for breath and kicked feebly with her legs. "I can...I can explain..."

Elkton watched the girl struggle and couldn't help feeling that it was all for show, designed to solicit sympathy from him, but if it was genuine, he couldn't let her die by Xena's hands. In the end, he chose to intervene as much for Xena's soul as Lysandra's life. "Xena," he said, trying to insinuate his body between Xena and Lysandra. "You can't kill her!"

"Watch me," Xena growled without taking her eyes from the much-hated face before her. She repositioned her hands, centering the heel of her right palm over a prominent knob in the girl's throat; Lysandra loosed an involuntary squeak. "How much pity should I feel for her, Elkton? You tell me that!"

Failing brute force, Elkton tried negotiating. "She's as much a victim of Manus' schemes as Gabrielle!" Xena's eyes narrowed, the corner of her mouth twitched and he knew he'd found a chink in the armor. "Was Gabrielle responsible for her actions? No. She was a pawn, a victim... Lysandra is no different. Manus is the real villain here. Save your venom for him."

Lysandra took advantage of Xena's momentary indecision to inject a verbal wedge and she chose her words with care. "One life..." she croaked. "Ring any bells?"

Intrigued, Xena loosened her grip. "Talk fast. I bore easily."

"I was there, with you and Manus in the dreamscape. It was me beside you at the campfire. I heard Manus' offer to you. The same offer was made to Gabrielle."

Visibly stunned, Xena dropped her left hand to her side and allowed the girl to slide down until her feet rested on the floor, but she kept her pinned tightly to the column at the end by a strong right arm.

"Who made this offer?" Elkton interjected. "Manus?"

Lysandra waved his inquiry away as negligible. "Photis had the prophecy right. It was the blood of an innocent, and Gabrielle was the logical choice." The girl felt Xena's fingers constrict around her throat.

"You're lying," replied Xena flatly.

"I'm not," gasped Lysandra in retort. Again, she felt Xena's grip slacken, and again she used logic to stay her execution. "You know I'm not! Because you know it's just the kind of thing your little bard would've done...sacrifice herself to spare others. That sort of thing is fine if you've more lives than a cat, but it's rather reckless if you're a mortal."

Elkton narrowed his eyes and considered the teenager a moment, and when he spoke again, his tone was almost playful. "And in what category precisely do you fall, Lysandra?"

Xena brought her other hand to bear on Lysandra's throat. "Let's find out."

Lysandra's eyes smouldered behind dark lashes. "I'm aware, Xena, that you could snap my neck with very little effort, and no conscience."

Xena's grimace would've passed for a smile under different circumstances. "I wouldn't lose any sleep over it."

Lysandra lifted an eyebrow in a mocking gesture. "How interesting you should choose those words." She darted her eyes to the side, and past Xena's shoulder. "Look behind you."

Elkton complied with the command, and while Xena gave Lysandra her undivided attention, she was in no mood to indulge the arrogant teenager's whim. "Gimme a break," she said humorlessly.

"Okay," Lysandra retorted lightly, "don't look behind you."

Xena's patience was understandably non-existent. However, Elkton's expression , a combination of surprise and dread, compelled her to turn and regard the focus of such rapt attention. Until she witnessed Manus raise himself up, she had forgotten the larger implications of Gabrielle's death. The prophecy was fulfilled...and Manus was free.


	11. Chapter 11

**Sleeping with the Enemy**

**Chapter 24**

**Deanlu and Roo**

**Dedicated to Renee O'Connor **

**Disclaimer: ****The characters in Xena: Warrior Princess are the property of MCA/Universal and Renaissance Pictures. No copyright infringement is intended. This fan fiction may be copied for personal use only, may not be sold, and must contain all notices of copyright. **

**Acknowledgments: ****The authors of this story wish to thank the following individuals: Atalanta, Anon. for their more than occasional constructive input; gratuitous thanks to XWPWarrioress, executive story consultant; EMartin(toao) for the cover concept and design; and Mit18 for her selfless work at the presentation of this manuscript. Thank you.**

**Copyright 1997 "Two Bards Writing". This work may not be reproduced and sold without expressed written permission of the authors herein. **

'Rude Awakenings'

"Praise Morpheus," Manus intoned in a whisper, the most his lazy vocal cords could manage after a year of disuse. Seemingly unaware of his audience, he stretched his arms out before him, studied his hands and long fingers as if he were seeing them for the first time. Momentarily, he shifted, carefully easing back into limbs dormant for many months. As he moved to swing his legs to the floor, he felt a sharp stab of pain. One hand flew to the source and came away from his thigh bloodied. "Hazards of the flesh," he muttered, ignoring the pain to take a full inventory of his reanimated body.

Quietly, by eye, Xena located her sword and chakram. Each was a half dozen paces away, in opposite directions. Attaining either of them would leave Elkton unguarded and vulnerable. She still possessed her breast dagger and boot knife, concealed. She could hurl either one-handed with lethal accuracy - pierce the heart - IF THE BASTARD'S GOT ONE...

Restrained by Xena's hand, Lysandra managed to choke out a strangled, "No!"

Xena weighed the two threats, Lysandra versus Manus. In a heartbeat, she deemed Manus the more dangerous of the two. She released Lysandra to fall giddily to her knees while simultaneously reaching for her bootknife. She flung the razor-sharp blade at the mystic's face while the breast dagger, taken from Gabrielle during their first visit to this valley, sped for the broad expanse of Manus' chest. Instinctively, Manus threw up his hand to cover his face, a defensive reflex that had unexpected results; the knives screamed to a halt, one a hair's breadth from his prominent brow, the other just piercing the priest's robes above his heart; as he exhaled in relief, he could feel its sting. And there the vipers hung, the focus of attention to everyone in the room.

"You see now? You can't defeat him!" exclaimed Lysandra, scrambling to her feet. "He's a god!" she proclaimed, jutting her chin out petulantly, ignorant of the tempting target she presented to Xena.

"Lysandra," Manus called in an imperious voice. "Child, come to me." Without hesitation, Elkton's prized pupil moved to stand at Manus' side. STILL SO WEAK... he mused as he leaned heavily on her shoulder.

"Lysandra," cried Elkton. "Fight it! Fight him!" But the girl merely returned a blank stare, as if his words were foreign to her.

"It's useless, Elkton...her devotion to me is complete," said Manus. He turned to look down at the girl. "Is that not true, child?" Lysandra smiled, nodded and gazed up at him with the sort of keen admiration generally reserved for heroes. "You're to be commended for your initiative, and your quick thinking, and you shall be rewarded."

"Your release is reward enough for me, Master," she replied sweetly. She leaned into him and stared in rapt fascination at the two blades, poised with such murderous intent. "You did that, Lord," she whispered conspiratorially. She elaborated in words meant only for him. MORPHEUS' GIFT TO YOU - A TOY TO OCCUPY THE LONG HOURS SPENT IN THE DREAMSCAPE.

She was in his head, tucked into the same comfortable little niche he'd allocated for her moons past, and yet as he tried to respond in kind, he found he had no connection to her, that the bridge was, for all intents and purposes, one way. Frustrated, he gave voice to his thoughts, heedless of whom else might hear them. "Yes...yes...Morpheus always rewards the faithful." Manus' voice, newly strong, was quietly marveling. He beamed down at Lysandra who was looking at him with such open, genuine passion - the passion of a disciple for her Master. IRRATIONAL! He shook his head. He had never in the past cared what others thought of him, and yet now, looking into her youthful face, he found he wanted to live up to her expectations. She looked at him seriously and nodded, and he knew that his thoughts were laid out to her like an open scroll. The idea was both comforting and disconcerting. "I'm flattered Morpheus gave me any thought at all."

HE HAS THOUGHT OF LITTLE ELSE SINCE YOUR EXILE INTO THE DREAMSCAPE. Her attitude was casual and easy-going, and she could feel Manus reaching, stretching, groping for some kind of purchase, some toe-hold in her psyche and she could sense his disappoint when none was granted. "You can do other things, too," said Lysandra, leaning into him to speak into his ear.

Manus moved his free hand experimentally - up and down, across the width of his chest - the two knives mirrored his actions. "Amazing," he breathed, squeezing Lysandra's shoulder in a display of satisfaction. He shook his hand once, towards the ground, and the knives dropped with a clatter to the crypt floor. "Truly amazing."

Xena determined that Manus' fascination with his new-found godly powers would be short-lived. Choreographed to a resounding rendition of her warcry, she armed herself and executed a standing somersault. The acrobatics in the air, engineered to befuddle and surprise as well as cut distances, had the desired effect. She touched down, sword poised, less than one stride from her target, but with no more effort than it took to flick aside an insect, Manus wriggled the fingers of his left hand, flinging Xena across the crypt and into the wall with breath-snatching force.

Elkton had followed Xena's assault on Manus with concern, and now he cringed openly at the sound of armor, flesh and bone impacting unyielding stone. He looked at Xena, crumpled and unconscious, dead or dying for all he knew, and his head was filled with raging, contradictory thoughts. As much as he abhorred violence, he could see no other way to end the confrontation. Clenching his teeth, he picked up the fallen Sword of Psyche, though he had neither Xena's youth or skills; he did, however, share her motivation. He turned at the waist to confront his enemy and, hiding his anger behind the barest of restraints, said, "Say goodnight, Manus!"

"Oh, my night is just beginning, old man," retorted Manus. He threw out his arm, stiff and straight before him and Elkton's progress was brought to an abrupt standstill. The old mystic strained against the invisible bonds that held him, giving him the appearance of a man walking against a strong wind. The effect was almost comical. Manus grinned, enjoying himself immensely. "Lose the sword, Elkton," he said. "It doesn't suit you." Elkton dropped the sword like it was his idea. Manus cocked his head slightly and regarded the old mystic with contempt. "You look constipated, old man."

"That's disgust, Manus," replied the priest in as dispassionate a voice as he could push out between clenched teeth. "You disgust me. It was a mistake to take you into the priesthood. You always were a liar and a cheat."

"And a good one!" retorted Manus with misplaced pride.

Elkton shook his head and snorted, "And to think I once called you friend..."

Manus lifted an eyebrow. "You're so naive. You trusted me and I betrayed you. You have only yourself to blame."

Elkton struggled briefly against the unseen forces holding him, but it was like walking through treacle. Finally, winded, he spat, "Bastard!"

Manus clicked his tongue and said, "Sticks and stones." Supported by Lysandra's sturdy young shoulders, he took a few tentative steps off the dais before stopping briefly at Hesperos' body. His face was a mask of disappointment. "Pity about Hesperos. He was quite useful."

"Now he's a throw rug."

Manus whipped around to meet Xena's eyes and the look in his own dark orbs was nothing short of pleased surprise. "Ah, Xena! Why aren't you dead?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"Maybe if you show me how it's done," drawled Xena, the intimation unmistakable. The threat was still hanging in the fetid crypt air as Xena struggled into a sitting position, favoring her ribs. She had enough experience with fractures to know that although the ribs were painful, none were broken. They didn't concern her half as much as her legs which, tucked beneath her, had no feeling at all.

"Xena!" called Elkton, awkwardly twisting a complete one hundred eighty degrees to catch a glimpse of her; he didn't like what he saw. "Are you badly injured?"

"I'm just peachy," retorted Xena dryly, as she forcefully massaged the calves of her legs; they were not broken, as she had feared, but they were weak, as if after a long, strength- sapping illness. "Just peachy," she muttered. In counterpoint to her casual demeanor, inside the warrior a fire burned; it popped and hissed as it fed on the promise of revenge. Vengeance, Xena knew, was a powerful motivator; Manus was proof of that. "Manus," she called, and she realized her voice was the only thing about her still able to convey strength and threat. "This is between you and me. Let Elkton go."

Manus chuckled warmly. "My dear, Xena, why should I choose at all when I can have you both?"

"Lord," hissed Lysandra. "You're not yet fully recovered...the sleepers, Lord... they rob you of your strength..."

Manus shot her an angry glance. "Nonsense," he refuted, and to illustrate his claim he made a threatening gesture with his hand in Elkton's direction.

Powerless to move of his own accord, the old mystic closed his eyes, anticipating the worst that Manus' fertile imagination could conjure: a sword in the belly or a deadly fireball engulfing his body. Instead, he felt a tickling in the pit of his stomach and was simultaneously overcome with a feeling of intense vertigo. His feet and legs, formerly rooted to the ground, took on a feeling of weightlessness. He found he wanted to vomit and by keeping his eyes screwed so tightly shut, he knew he was only exacerbating the condition.

Manus knew his contemporary was expecting something extraordinary and if and when Elkton opened his eyes, he would be surprised, if not amused, to find himself hovering, wraith like, 10 feet above the floor and rising still. Manus tucked his tongue between his molars and glared at the impotent manifestation of his power.

Xena's hands came together twice, loudly, in a mocking salute meant to wound. "Impressive parlor trick. Can you pull a rabbit out of a turban, too?" She saw Elkton's eyes snap open and the utter surprise on his face at learning his predicament. She hoped he was prepared for gravity to kick in at any moment. "Hang in there, Elkton," she quipped. "I'll get to you." Drawing from a pool of resolve fed by a trickle of raw anger, she braced one hand against the wall and used it as a lever to coax her legs beneath her. They were rubbery and weak, and she tottered unsteadily, like a practiced drunkard; her right leg buckled and she went down hard on one knee.

"Xena, Xena, Xena," crooned Manus. He strutted and preened with the arrogance of a man who'd been born to godhood. "As much as I am enjoying your valiant performance, the time has come for you to die."

"What a coincidence: I was thinking the same thing about you," drawled Xena, once more getting to her feet. Her eyes swept the floor for a weapon, all the while wondering if she would have the strength to wield it with any kind of effect. The feeling was returning to her legs but with it came pain. With barely disguised effort, she pushed away from the wall to stand on her own. She didn't fail to notice the surprise on Manus' face as she did so. He still feared her, and that knowledge gave her strength.

"Stay where you are, Xena," warned Manus. He shook off Lysandra's grasp and moved forward under his own power. He jabbed a bronzed finger towards Elkton. "Or watch him drop like a stone!"

"I'm prepared to die, Manus!" exclaimed Elkton, his back to the smooth stone ceiling. His one consolation was that the circumstances afforded him a unique perspective, and although he suspected the fall would kill him, he showed no fear. "Your intimidation won't work here!"

Xena gave Elkton an almost imperceptible nod of approval. "You heard the man, Manus. He doesn't fear you. And me..." She shrugged and added nonchalantly, "I just wanna rip out your black heart and go home."

Lysandra tugged at his sleeve, all the while keeping her gaze fixed on Xena. "Lord," she whispered fiercely. "Release the last of the sleepers. While they divide your energies, you will never reach your full potential." Again, Manus shook off her grasp and again, Lysandra persisted. AS LONG AS YOU MAINTAIN EVEN THE MOST FRAGILE OF TIES BETWEEN THE WAKING AND DREAMSCAPE WORLDS YOU'RE VULNERABLE. FREEEEE THEM, she said, drawing out the first word. FREE THEM AND BE FREE YOURSELF.

Manus observed Elkton, his former mentor, trolling about on the crypt ceiling using his hands and feet to move about and wondered at the old man's ingenuity and grit; he looked at Xena, ten paces distant...injured, unmoving. He wondered why he should fear her in such a state. WHAT HAVE I TO FEAR FROM MORTALS? I'M A GOD! MORPHEUS' CHOSEN! He felt another tug at his elbow.

"Trust me, Lord!" Lysandra spoke ardently, drawing his attention to Xena who appeared to be making a miraculous recovery. YOU HAVEN'T MUCH TIME.

The Warrior Princess teetered and lurched, putting the flat of one hand against the wall to steady herself. Her injuries, such as they were, were just debilitating enough to give Manus the space he needed. Inwardly, she wondered why Manus did nothing to stop her. Her earlier flight across the room and subsequent impact with the unforgiving stone wall left little doubt that he was capable of killing her if he chose.

"I'm warning you, Xena!" exclaimed Manus. "I can kill with a thought - remember Lias?" He concentrated hard; in his mind's eye, he pictured her flying through the air, arms and legs flailing like a child's ragdoll, but try as he might, he was unable to turn the image into a reality. He gave an inward groan of disgust and frustration as he realized that he could wound her only with words. Gesturing with an open hand towards the body of Gabrielle, he said, "And then there's the matter of your dear friend..." He'd stopped her cold with the reference. "Gabrielle... wasn't it?" He arched an eyebrow in mock confusion. "Yes...Gabrielle...that's a nasty-looking wound...do you think she suffered...much?"

"Not half as much as you're going to," quipped Xena, her face set in stone. The Sword of Psyche lay at her right foot; she could've sworn it hadn't been there moments before. As her legs began regaining their strength, she surreptitiously slid the toe of her boot beneath the hilt.

"Master, your enemy is about to arm herself," cautioned Lysandra in a sing song voice. She stepped away, leaving his side for the first time since his awakening, and although her actions spoke of fear and self-preservation, her face showed nothing but contempt. FREE THE SLEEPERS, MASTER...FREE THEM OR DIE YOURSELF.

Manus regarded Xena with renewed interest. She was armed, the sword having been popped effortlessly into her outstretched hand. She no longer needed the wall to stand erect and though she moved slowly, with great care, it was clear that her strength was returning. Briefly, he conceded that in his desire to revel in his victory, he had lingered too long in the crypt. When Xena positioned herself between him and the only exit in the room, he was sure his arrogance had cost him.

Lysandra stood at the periphery of the scene, one small hand clenched anxiously down upon the other. There was genuine anxiety in her entreaties to Manus. MASTER, SHE WILL SLIT YOUR THROAT IF YOU DO NOT ACT NOW!

Looking into the Warrior Princess' eyes, Manus was doubtful he would get off that easy. Finally, it was his fear of a prolonged and painful death at her hands which galvanized him into action. With unseemly haste, he returned to the loathsome, yet familiar dark recesses of the dreamscape. It was like coming home...to an orphanage. Women, men and children, mingling, wandering in the profound blackness, clutching one another in fear and uncertainty. Silvus, Photis and the other priests moved among them, whispering words of comfort and reassurance, much as they had done in waking life. These were the trump cards he had been waiting to play. At Lysandra's insistence, and for his own survival, he began releasing them, one by one. Each release left him with a pang akin to hunger, but almost immediately he was suffused with an overwhelming sense of well-being which he attributed to a massive influx of psychic energies.

LET GO, MASTER. NO FEAR. A GOD FEARS NO MORTAL.

From his trance-like state, with his eyes rolled back into his head, he could sense Xena lunge for him, the sword poised to make a two-handed plunge into his chest, but he knew no fear. A god fears no mortal.


	12. Chapter 12

**Sleeping with the Enemy**

**Chapter 25**

**Deanlu and Roo**

**Dedicated to Renee O'Connor **

**Disclaimer: ****The characters in Xena: Warrior Princess are the property of MCA/Universal and Renaissance Pictures. No copyright infringement is intended. This fan fiction may be copied for personal use only, may not be sold, and must contain all notices of copyright. **

**Acknowledgments: ****The authors of this story wish to thank the following individuals: Atalanta, Anon. for their more than occasional constructive input; gratuitous thanks to XWPWarrioress, executive story consultant; EMartin(toao) for the cover concept and design; and Mit18 for her selfless work at the presentation of this manuscript. Thank you.**

**Copyright 1997 "Two Bards Writing". This work may not be reproduced and sold without expressed written permission of the authors herein. **

'Ceyx and Violence'

He just stood there, leaning slightly forward, a small smile on his lips, as if he were preparing to enter Elysia after a long, fruitful life of selfless good works. Xena could hardly wait to inform him that he'd been detoured to Tartarus at her insistence. With new-found strength, she raised the sword above her head and brought it down, point first, upon an ornate circle of cloth at Manus' heart. He might as well have been clad in the finest armor since, despite Xena's best efforts, the razor-sharp blade glanced harmlessly off Manus' chest.

Manus' head came forward, calmly, as if he had all the time in the world. He brought his eyes to bear on the Warrior Princess and conjured up a scornful chuckle from deep in his throat. "I'll give you points for persistence, Xena."

"I'll give you the point of this sword!" she retorted, bringing all of her weight to bear behind the blade. It was unthinkable that she could be this close to vengeance and not succeed. Of course, she mused, if Manus' claims of godhood were true, she'd only succeed in enraging him further.

"That's it, Xena!" exclaimed Elkton, using the heel of his right foot to spin ninety degrees against the ceiling until he was situated almost directly above Manus' head. From this vantage point he could see everything - Manus exerting every ounce of psychic energy available to him, Xena countering with an equal measure of physical force. And he could see Lysandra, too, the picture of anxiety, fists clenched to her chest, bottom lip trapped between perfect white teeth. She must have sensed his scrutiny for she paused in her observance of the struggle to look directly up at him and the expression on her face, although familiar, was not her own. In that brief moment of unspoken contact, he understood her at last. "He's still vulnerable, Xena! No god, this one!"

HE'S RIGHT, MASTER! reinforced Lysandra as she came to stand at Manus' elbow. She was close enough now to see the perspiration on his brow, the spittle on his lips as they curled back defiantly. He did not make an impressive picture. YOU HAVE TO RELEASE ALL THE SLEEPERS!

Manus was shaking, struggling to maintain some semblance of control; he looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "I have!" He winced as he felt the pinch of cold steel on his chest. Instinctively, his big hands closed around the blade to prevent further injury.

ALL OF THEM! THE DEAD, TOO... Lysandra's eyes fixed on his robe where a crimson rosette had begun to blossom. She made a point of reminding him of his mortality. RELEASE THE SLEEPERS...OR JOIN THEM!

As Manus felt the insistent sting of the blade, he dipped for what he hoped was the last time into the dreamscape and threw open all the doors, but he did not feel any different; there was no rush of psychic energy as there had been the first time. He had no time to speculate on the reasons as the blade slipped through his blood-soaked hands and another hair's breadth into his chest. Free of any ties to his old prison, sheer force of will had brought him to the precipice of immortality and the unparalleled gifts of Morpheus were his. As difficult as it was to take his eyes from the grimacing face of his would-be executioner, he closed them, trying to summon forth for her a grisly and painful demise. Fueled by a fertile imagination and long months spent dreaming of revenge, the images were gruesome in the extreme. He took her apart in his head, piece by piece, and the possibility of seeing his greatest enemy destroyed filled him with exquisite anticipation. When he heard her grunt and cry out, he knew he had succeeded. SHE'S DEAD! He had to see! He had to see her dead! Manus' eyes flew open; Xena was so close; her face was blurry shades of bronze and blue and a slash of crimson framing a triumphant grimace. He gasped as ice-cold pain pierced him from chest to shoulder blade and the copious amount of blood pouring from the wound left little doubt that he had been struck a fatal blow.

"Hurts..." said Xena, giving the blade a push for emphasis. "...doesn't it?"

Manus' dark face reflected the turn of fortune in numbed surprise. Long bronze fingers enveloped the blade where it protruded from his chest, and his head shook with disbelief. While he still had breath in his lungs he called upon Morpheus to save him.

Morpheus replied with perfect silence.

"Xena," cried Elkton as his feet lightly touched down on the crypt floor. He moved quickly to her side and squeezed her arm. "You did it!"

Xena offered the old mystic a small smile, a perfunctory gesture that was all resignation and no joy. She felt no qualms, no pride or remorse, only a weary indifference. She renewed her grip on the sword hilt and prepared to withdraw the blade.

"Lysandra..." Even as the blood drained from his body, leaving his extremities tingling with cold, the dying priest sought out the familiar figure of Lysandra. She hovered at his side, like some grim cherub, his reflection dwelling faintly in her dark eyes. He wished that he could touch her mind one last time to know what secrets she held there. Further rational thought was lost as the blade left his chest with a slickening whisper. He sank slowly to his knees, dark blood staining his robes and puddling at Lysandra's shoes as she stood over him, arms akimbo. "Who..."

"That's the most intelligent question you've asked tonight," she said, a slight quirk on her lips. She enjoyed the way his brows came together in a puzzled frown. "But 'who' is not half as important as 'why'." She crouched to meet his gaze. "In the dreamscape, Morpheus gave you space, room to hone the skills he bestowed upon you." She shook her head. "But you couldn't be content with that. You sought godhood...you saw yourself as an equal beside Morpheus. It was presumptuous of you, Manus, to think you could take those gifts into the flesh." She clucked her tongue audibly. "Morpheus abhors presumption."

Manus shook his head, as if the word were foreign to him, but any verbal response was lost as he gasped for air. Blood bubbling upon his lips, death took him supine to the floor.

"Oh, don't look so shocked," cooed the teen. "You trusted me and I betrayed you. Sound familiar?" With her finger, she traced the bloodied icon of Morpheus on his robes and glared at him with undisguised contempt. "You're an embarrassment, Manus. You can't control one little bard and yet you expected to sit at Morpheus' right hand?"

"But..the prophecy..." Manus argued with what little strength was left him.

She smiled and smoothed vagrant wisps of sweat-damp hair from his eyes. "Foolish mortal. I wrote the prophecy."

Xena stood to one side, baffled by Lysandra's revelations. Presently, her lips formed a hard, flat line and the sword slipped from her fingertips, kissing the stone floor with the single peal of a ship's bell. She appreciated the way Manus winced as the sound cut through him. She was relieved that his death was not a quick one and she wondered, briefly, if that made her a monster.

Manus coughed wetly, biting back death as his ice cold fingers absently probed the gaping hole in his chest. He seemed beyond the pain, more intent on Lysandra than the blood leaving his body. As his dark eyes waned to a grayish cast, he asked again, "Who are you?"

Her voice held a well-honed edge of ridicule as she replied, "If I told you that, what would you ponder on for eternity?" As he settled back against the floor, his breathing more and more labored, she knew her time was short. Rising, her playful smile was replaced by an expression as stern and reproachful as she could muster. "You have bloodied the Sword of Psyche in the name of evil." She watched his eyes grow impossibly wide as she pronounced sentence upon him. "In deference to your many years of faithful service, Morpheus is prepared to be merciful." Hope flashed briefly across his broad face and it thrilled her to quash it. "You may have what you promised Gabrielle and myself. Everlasting peace. Give Hades my regards."

Manus' jaw worked convulsively, gasping his last breaths of air like a fish out of water. He convulsed once, twice, reinforcing the allusion, and then was still, his dark eyes transfixed at some point on the ceiling high above his head.

Lysandra gazed at Manus' body in rapt fascination. He had died so well, with such drama. It was a pity he could not die twice and she was on the verge of saying just that when she felt Elkton touch her arm. She met his smile with an inquiring lift of her brows. "Yes?"

Without saying anything, Elkton nodded at the large tapestry behind the dais; Morpheus in the guise of Cyex, husband to the beautiful Halcyone, whose expression of surprise he saw mirrored in the youthful face before him. "You resemble your mother."

Lysandra smiled at the man who had put the puzzle pieces together. "There are those who say I favor my father more."

Xena's eyes were drawn to the tapestry as well; there was no mistaking the resemblance. "Son-of-a-bacchae..." she said in a derisive whisper. "Morpheus' love child. Isn't that just perfect."

Lysandra stepped over Manus' body to address Xena. "Your contempt for the gods is well-known, Xena. If I hadn't been certain that you would laugh in my face, I would've disclosed everything to you back in Amphipolis."

"I thought Morpheus abhorred presumption," replied Xena, hoping the irony was not lost on the Dream god's progeny.

"And me?" Elkton waited for Lysandra to acknowledge him. "When would you have told me?"

"Forget it, Elkton," interjected Xena, waving a dismissive hand. "Getting a straight answer from the gods is like trying to nail water to a wall."

Elkton nodded, considering the validity of Xena's words. How many times had he expressed similar sentiments? "So...all of this..." he gestured airily. "Your coming to me last year for tutelegde...it was all just part of some scheme..."

Lysandra observed Elkton's wounded countenance and was inexplicably compelled to soothe his battered ego. "No. There was no inkling of Manus' plans that far back. Father insisted I study with you, to learn patience, and organization. He thought it would teach me humility if I were made to serve." The old mystic grunted and feigned interest in Manus' body. She would have to work for his forgiveness and some small part of her resented him for it. "Later, when he discovered Manus' true intentions, Father assigned me the task of bringing him under control. He saw it as an excellent opportunity to put my natural gifts and the skills I learned from you into practice."

"The pupil has surpassed the teacher," said Elkton.

"I'm sorry," she said hastily.

"No, my dear," he met her gaze and patted her hand affectionately. "How could you help it?" He shook his head and with than a hint of self-mockery, said, "All this time I simply thought you were a gifted student blossoming under my skilled tuteledge...and here you were just naturally pre-disposed."

"I was wrong not to let you in on the plan, Elkton, but Manus' psychic reach was so complete. Whatever you knew, Manus would know and then he would simply retreat into the dreamscape until another opportunity presented itself."

"If you knew what Manus was up to, why not just deal with him in the dreamscape?" Xena's query was not so much a question as an indictment.

"Because by the time I sensed his true intent, Gabrielle was already under his influence," explained the girl. "Manus was all powerful in the dreamscape. I could only do so much without raising his suspicions so the prophecy had to be permitted to follow its natural course."

"A course you pre-ordained," said Elkton. The girl nodded wordlessly. "So there were never any plans for Manus' godhood..."

Lysandra loosed an incredulous hoot. "Not hardly. In every way conceivable, it was all in his head."

"And all that business with the levitation, that was never Manus' doing," deduced Elkton.

"No, once again in the flesh, he had no more power than any other mortal. What he did have, however, was a toe-hold in the dreamscape. He had to be persuaded to leave that world behind. That's where you came in, Xena. I had to give Manus the illusion of godhood while at the same time convincing him that you were threat enough to destroy him before his powers were fully matured."

"I understand now," said Elkton, coming to Xena's side. "If you had killed him without his first having released the sleepers, they would've been doomed to wander the dreamscape until their bodies gave out on them, which at the rate Manus was draining their energies wouldn't have been long at all." The old mystic's beaming countenance fell upon his prized pupil. "Well done, my child."

"Oh, yeah, you're quite the bard," said Xena without admiration. "Constructing such an intricate prophecy."

"More intricate than you know, Xena. Manus never had any intention of honoring his side of your bargain. I do, however. One death and it all ends."

Looking at Gabrielle's still form on the floor, Xena said between clenched teeth. "You got your one death."

"Yes," the girl agreed, her eyes on Xena's retreating form. "The culmination of a finely-detailed plan." Xena stopped and turned. Lysandra recognized the expression of outrage and disbelief. "You hate me, don't you?"

It was a child's question, spoken by a child. Xena spared her the observation, but little else. "I might hate you, if I gave you any thought," she replied, and her restraint surprised her. At Hesperos' body, she pulled the chakram from his chest and began to clean it against the fabric of his robes. She took her time, knowing she was being scrutinized, yet drawing strength from the familiar task. Her hands and eyes moved over the weapon; for all the lives it had taken while in her possession, it remained relatively unblemished, as if newly forged. How she envied it. When at last she straightened, seating the chakram in its place at her side, she turned again to face Lysandra. "My friend is dead," she said simply; she had failed to anticipate how profoundly those four words would rock her emotionally. "If I make a thousand good friends before Celesta comes for me, there will never be another Gabrielle." She smiled when she said it: Gabrielle. She could feel tiny muscles draw her lips up slightly at the corners of her mouth, as if it were impossible to utter that name without smiling...or crying. But tears would come later, in the privacy of some sheltered glen, around a campfire, or as she sat astride Argo on a dusty road. Shaking herself from her reverie, Xena made a conscious effort to keep her body from betraying the level of her grief. "My friend is dead. That's more of a loss than you could ever understand."

"I agree," she said quickly. "It's a pity that you should be so wounded by your friend's death. Especially when I promised Gabrielle no harm would come to you. She made me swear. Must be a mortal thing," she concluded with a shrug. "Like you, Gabrielle was given a choice. She chose to be the last person to die for Manus."

"She didn't know what she was doing," Xena fired back. "She had no comprehension."

"Don't confuse ignorance with innocence. Gabrielle agreed to our bargain, but you, Xena, with your noble gesture of self-sacrifice, you almost ruined it!"

Xena wheeled angrily. "Excuse me?"

"Because the prophecy was permitted to unfold as written, Manus is no more."

"Manus is no more? How clinical is that?!" Xena took a deep breath to calm her frustrations; the young woman's cavalier attitude was proving to be something of an irritant. "You're not going to absolve yourself from blame or responsibility by sanitizing your actions. A number of people are dead tonight. You're the architect of all that."

"Guilty," she shrugged with a smirk. "As charged."

"You little twit!" Xena spat. "I ought to -"

Lysandra countered, "What? Put me across your knee?"

Up went the eyebrow as Xena quipped, "You read minds, too." IF YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW MY OPINIONS, STAY OUT OF MY HEAD.

Lysandra shrank visibly from the mental rebuke. "I'm not completely heartless, Xena, in spite of what you might think. Steps are being taken to remedy what can be remedied."

Elkton was cautiously optimistic. "The villagers...my priests?"

"Awakening," Lysandra said lightly. "Even as we speak."

"And Linius...and Gabrielle?" he prompted. "What of them?"

Lysandra hung her head just slightly. "Linius died by his own hand."

"Guided by Manus!" argued Elkton, understandably baffled.

"Still...by his own hand." Anticipating his next question, she said bluntly, " Dead is dead. If you want to appeal to a Hades, that's up to you. But my powers are limited. You, Xena...if you had died upon your own sword, I could not have helped you."

"No more excuses!" said Xena as she retrieved her sword and slipped it into her back scabbard. "I've given you about all the thought I care to. Now unless you care to throw yourself on my sword, there's nothing you could say or do that would possibly interest me." Without waiting for a response, she turned and gathered the limp form of Gabrielle in her arms. The bard's head reposed against Xena's chest, over the heart which beat for the both of them beneath her armor. The girl's body, a strangely comforting weight in her arms, was still warm and her face was unmarked, save for a small drop of blood at the corner of her mouth. The illusion of sleep was so profound that Xena had to fight the urge to shake her awake. When she had regained her composure, she called over her shoulder, "You coming, Elkton?"

Elkton did not hesitate. Admiration for his pupil's skills aside, Xena was his friend. "Right behind you, Xena."

Fear of being abandoned among the dead spurred Lysandra into action. "You're afraid to ask about Gabrielle!" It was no surprise that her words brought Xena to a standstill. From where she stood, she could see the warrior's head dip, presumably to study the still features of the girl in her arms. "How much is your pride worth to you?"

Xena turned at the inquiry. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Lysandra advanced across the floor until she was standing at Elkton's side. "Perhaps I should have said what is Gabrielle's life worth to you."

Elation and grief shared a heartbeat as Xena saw an opening, but she was cautious. She knew from past experience that the gods, with their hidden agendas, never did anything without expecting something in return. "If it's mine to give, it's yours."

"You're very earnest," said Lysandra with genuine admiration. "I don't know as you have much that I want, Xena. Being a god I'm pretty much set for life. However..." She lifted an eyebrow expectantly. "I will take a demonstration of humility."

"Don't do this, Lysandra," growled Elkton.

Lysandra ignored him, studying the beautiful face before her, caught in a rare moment of extreme vulnerability. "Beg me," she said simply.

Xena looked at Gabrielle's face. IF THERE'S EVEN THE SLIGHTEST CHANCE...Hugging the girl closely to her, she sank to one knee in a desperation plea. "Please," her voice cracked, heavy with emotion.

Lysandra placed her hands on her hips and grinned. "You are so easy!" she said, shaking her head in amazement. XENA: WARRIOR PRINCESS ON HER KNEES BEFORE THE ILLEGITIMATE CHILD OF MORPHEUS. FATHER, DO YOU SEE THIS?!

"You got what you wanted, Lysandra," said Xena, looking up from an uncustomary position of submission. "I'm on my knees...it's not something I do every day..." She glared at the girl with a mixture of frustration and contempt; it was galling her to be on her knees before the godling, and yet anything else was unthinkable. Her voice dissolved to a whisper. "I'm begging you...bring her back...please..."

"Oh." Lysandra's brows came together in a puzzled frown. "I never said I could do that." Smiling, she said, "I just wanted to see you on your knees."

Xena closed her eyes, consolidating her raging emotions; grief warred with anger, vengeance conflicted with justice. On the periphery of this battlefield, Xena's memory of Gabrielle prepared to do battle with them all.

MY DINAR'S ON THE BARD.

Xena flinched perceptibly at the invasion, but did not open her eyes to engage the godling's no-doubt questing gaze. She resolved to never again give the gods that quarter, that tiny window of trust she had bestowed upon Lysandra. She took a tremulous breath, wondering if pride alone could get her to her feet. She shifted the body in her arms and stood, staggering for a moment under the weight.

Lysandra pounced at the opportunity. "Wouldn't it be nice if she could walk out of here on her own?" Under her former mentor's reproachful gaze, her broad smile withered to a pout.

Elkton expelled a patient breath, reminding himself that godling or not, Lysandra was still a child. But youth shouldn't excuse everything. Being passionate by nature, he had never excelled at keeping his emotions under rein, but as he approached Xena, braced for a righteous display of temper, he saw instead a woman whose soul was laid bare before strangers...laid bare at the whim of a child. It was the defining moment in an evening of defining moments. "Xena," he whispered, putting his hand on her shoulder.

The presence of Elkton's hand reminded Xena that she still had someone for whom to be strong. He kept it there, maintaining the connection, as they started from the room.

Lysandra's voice pursued them. "There's more, you know! Don't you want to -"

The old mystic wheeled. "Enough, Lysandra!" barked Elkton, his eyes daggers for the godling. "You have said and done quite enough."

"Indulge me, Elkton. For old time's sake?" She cocked her head and looked at him with genuine affection. When his exit was not immediately forthcoming, she approached the weapon lying on the floor between them and hefted it, one hand on the gilt pommel, the other beneath the gleaming blade. "The Sword of Psyche...beautiful, isn't it?"

Xena slowly pivoted on her heel. Gabrielle's head, tucked neatly beneath the woman's chin was a searing reminder that beauty kills, too.

"Is there a point to this?" Elkton asked, his voice stripped bare of civility.

Lysandra held the blade out to him. "I sensed that you were struggling earlier in the evening to remember something specific about this blade." Her young arms began to tremble beneath the weapon's weight but her face was impassive. "Has it come to you?"

Elkton left Xena's side as if drawn by a forceful lunar pull. Inside his head, the last puzzle piece slid into place. "The sword was designed by Zeus and forged by Hephaestus expressly for the execution of criminals..."

"You taught me that. What else?" Lysandra prompted. The old mystic's fingertips brushed the surface of the weapon. It hummed in his grasp. Lysandra lowered her arms gratefully. "What else, Teacher?"

"The blade..." Elkton's eyes moved over the body in Xena's arms and the words raced to leave his lips. "...the blade cannot take an innocent life!"

"Precisely," echoed the girl. She watched Xena tremble perceptibly as she absorbed the implications of the conversation between mystic and godling. As punishment for what she perceived as slights at Xena's hands, Lysandra resolved to draw out the details. "To lure Manus from the dreamscape, I had to give Gabrielle's death the appearance of credibility... melodrama, a flashing steel blade, the blood..." She observed Gabrielle's body, draped limply across the warrior's strong arms. "...the pain." She cocked an eyebrow and regarded Xena who met her eyes with an unwavering expectant gaze. "All the trappings to re-enforce the illusion." She moved to stand before the warrior. "But before I could convince Manus that Gabrielle's death was genuine, Gabrielle herself had to be convinced. His intense psychic bond with her would have seen through any deception on her part. As long as she believed her sacrifice was a real one, he would, also. And so I sold death to her, lock, stock and barrel. The way she jumped at it you would've thought I was giving it away." Wordlessly, without invitation, she placed her hand over the wound in Gabrielle's chest. Her hand became luminescent, radiating light and a warmth Xena could feel pass through the bard's body and into her own. Lysandra, sensitive to Elkton's curiosity, motioned him to her side. The pupil performed for her teacher as he stood at her elbow, gazing down at her handiwork in fascination. "You told me once that death is an illusion..." Transfixed by the godling's display of power, the old mystic merely grunted. "Tonight," Lysandra said, "I have demonstrated just how profound an illusion it can be." With that, she removed her hand to reveal the flesh beneath unblemished by injury. "For my next trick..." she concluded brightly, looking at Xena as if she expected applause, but the warrior's eyes were otherwise engaged. Gabrielle's chest rose and fell naturally, and her mouth quirked slightly, as if in irritation, when Xena shifted her in her arms. In answer to Xena's unspoken query, Lysandra replied, "She will wake shortly, in her own time."

A combination of personal concern and professional curiosity compelled Elkton to ask, "Will she remember any of this?"

Lysandra shrugged. "Difficult to say. It might all be crystal clear to her when she awakes. It might be foggy recollections, or it could present itself as nightmares." She was silent for a moment, watching as the bard made slow progress towards full consciousness. She couldn't resist commenting, "Heavy sleeper, huh?" Xena's face was stone as she turned to leave without comment, which only served to irritate the girl. Putting her hands on her hips, she said, "You know, Xena, it wouldn't hurt you to thank me."

"I bet it would," replied Xena without breaking stride. She stopped at the open door to the crypt and leaned against it, waiting for Elkton and enjoying the rhythm of Gabrielle's heart as it moved in sync with her own.

The old mystic moved past Lysandra, taking a last moment to survey the crypt...Manus' body growing cold on the cold stone floor, Hesperos, his toadie, dead at his side. The sentries, Phyus and Androcles, neither of whom had been fatally injured, were beginning to stir. If Lysandra was true to her word, the temple infirmary should be bustling with activity when he arrived to take inventory of his friends. Backpedaling, fixing his stern gaze on Lysandra, he joined Xena at the crypt threshold. "Lysandra..."

She smiled broadly, expectantly. "Elkton?"

He exhaled with effort. "In all good conscience, I don't think I can thank you, either." He watched as the girl's expression collapsed. "I'm sorry to lose you as a student. As a god you have tremendous potential...as a mortal however, I fear for your soul."

"As long as one of us does, Teacher." Feeling magnanimous, she addressed Xena. "Take care of your friend, Xena. You're only alive because she cared more for your life than for her own."

Xena acknowledged the girl with a curt nod, and something more. With a wry smile, she said, "I still say you could do with a sound paddling."

Lysandra laughed. "In your dreams."


	13. Chapter 13

**Sleeping with the Enemy**

**Epilogue**

**Deanlu and Roo**

**Dedicated to Renee O'Connor **

**Disclaimer: ****The characters in Xena: Warrior Princess are the property of MCA/Universal and Renaissance Pictures. No copyright infringement is intended. This fan fiction may be copied for personal use only, may not be sold, and must contain all notices of copyright. **

**Acknowledgments: ****The authors of this story wish to thank the following individuals: Atalanta, Anon. for their more than occasional constructive input; gratuitous thanks to XWPWarrioress, executive story consultant; EMartin(toao) for the cover concept and design; and Mit18 for her selfless work at the presentation of this manuscript. Thank you.**

**Copyright 1997 "Two Bards Writing". This work may not be reproduced and sold without expressed written permission of the authors herein. **

'**40 Winks'**

Lysandra was as good as her word, Elkton conceded. Upon arriving at the infirmary, he found Photis and Silvus passing out bread and bowls of stew to the villagers whom had awakened from their enforced naps confused and hungry. Elkton thought it fitting irony that the food had been prepared by Hesperos the previous morning. The villagers had consumed every last morsel before, one by one and family by family, they began making their way towards home. To the last, none of them had any memory at all of their time inside the dreamscape.

Gabrielle's own awakening followed just minutes after Elkton had settled the pair in his quarters, but he had not been present when the bard fought her way out of the fog and into the waking world. She'd awakened screaming and thrashing and it had taken all of Xena's strength and patience to soothe the girl to some semblance of calm. But despite Xena's reassurances that Manus would trouble her no more, Gabrielle could not be convinced to stay in the temple any longer than was absolutely necessary. Collecting their possessions, Xena bid Elkton farewell and packed the bard aboard a lethargic Argo. Daylight was only a few hours away as the trio left the temple heading east.

Once installed in the saddle, Gabrielle wrapped her arms around Xena's waist and lay her cheek against the warrior's back. They rode in relative quiet for an hour, Gabrielle not speaking a word beyond the necessary. Xena tried in vain to engage her in conversation, only to be met with monosyllabic replies at best. Gradually, questions gave way to silence and, lulled by Xena's heartbeat and Argo's hypnotic gait, Gabrielle dozed, only to be awakened minutes later by a nightmare. She was saved a nasty spill by Xena's quick reflexes and it was at the warrior's insistence that they stop for the night. With some reluctance, Gabrielle agreed.

Not long after they had pulled off the main path into a clearing, Xena proceeded to bed down Argo while Gabrielle arranged her blanket beside the fire. Summer Solstice or not, there was a definite chill in the air; a steady breeze fanned the stars to a sharp-edged luster and Argo's breath plumed frostily on the air as Xena groomed her. The warrior was half asleep, mesmerized by her own exhaustion. Every muscle in her body had its own separate ache, but she had always believed in tending to her mount's needs before her own. "We're getting too old for this, girl," she murmured. Argo nickered and yawned, sawing her jaws back and forth. Xena quipped, "What's that all about?" and yawned into the back of her hand. "At least you GOT a nap."

She ducked under the mare's belly with ease and ran the body brush vigorously over the animal's withers, removing two day's accumulation of dirt and sweat. When she finished, she stowed the brush in her saddlebags and fed Argo the last apple in the food store. In the firelight, she could see Gabrielle tossing and turning, occasionally punching the satchel she used as a pillow. Xena's chiseled features fretted themselves into a frown as she realized she had no more legitimate excuses to keep her from the fireside. She had intentionally lingered over her duties in the hopes Gabrielle would be asleep upon her return; she was at a loss to comfort the girl. As the bard had always been so keen to point out, words were not the stoic warrior's best weapon. Unable to stall a moment longer, she took a deep, cleansing breath, slung her saddlebags over one shoulder and moved wearily towards the fire. "Hey," she said when the bard's eyes fell upon her. She received a nod in reply - a polite, cordial nod - as if the two were strangers forced by circumstance to share lodgings for the night. Xena hated it. Hated feeling shut out, especially when she felt that talking might help. When distressed herself, she often turned to drilling with her weapons; it comforted her to touch and command those things she knew. She wondered if, where bards were concerned, words might have the same soothing effect. If she had had the energy, she might have begun just such a dialogue, but as it was, with daylight just a few hours away, she was more inclined to let it drop. For now. "I never thought I'd see the day when you'd choose the hard, cold ground over a soft bed," she said, trying to fill the silence that was putting space between them.

"Yeah, well," replied the bard, recognizing a feeble attempt at small talk, and she loved that Xena cared enough to try. Amazingly, she felt the icy tendril that had such a suffocating hold on her heart, release just a little. "I'm going to be more particular about the places I sleep in the future. IF I sleep in the future..."

Gently, as if she had not heard the bitterness in Gabrielle's voice, Xena said, "Did you try the sleep stone? Elkton swears by 'em."

Gabrielle sighed heavily as she fished a small flat stone from beneath her satchel. "Sure it prevents nightmares: who in Tartarus can sleep with their head on a rock?" She consigned the stone to their fire with a deliberate pitch. "I don't know why we had to stop anyway. We could be halfway to Thebes by now."

Xena worked at containing her irritation. "We STOPPED because you almost fell out of the saddle. We STOPPED because it's dangerous to travel an unfamiliar road in the dark. Argo could break a leg. We STOPPED because although you might be ready to go ten rounds with a cyclops, I am tired. You want me falling asleep at the reins?" Gabrielle shrugged and muttered something unintelligible, a response so unlike the Gabrielle she knew that Xena winced, but she kept the observation to herself. "Want me to rub your shoulders?"

"No. Thanks." Gabrielle sat up and draped her blanket around her. Her green eyes were wide pools in her set, unsmiling face. "I don't think all the hot teas, back rubs and sleep stones in the world will help."

"Your body will rest when it needs to, Gabrielle. Don't fight it." Xena yawned and rolled her head, producing a series of small cracks and pops. "Hope you don't mind if I stretch out, though." Gabrielle merely grunted dismissively and a silence fell between them that was not so much awkward as it was anticipatory...like an unexpelled breath. Without further comment, Xena sat down on a log to remove her greaves. While her fingers busied themselves with laces and buckles, she watched as Gabrielle lay another log across an already substantial blaze and stretched her hands to the flames. SO MUCH FOR SMALL TALK. She shucked off her greaves and gauntlets and lay them aside. "You know," she began delicately as her fingers fumbled with one of the straps to her armor. "It might help if you wrote some of this down...get it out of your system."

"It's not that easy, Xena," replied Gabrielle, her eyes never leaving the fire. "You don't know what it's like...what I'm feeling..."

Xena stopped what she was doing and briefly checked a molar with her tongue. "You're right. I don't. You have to tell me." She leaned forward from her seat and looked seriously at the young bard. "Gabrielle, TALK to me."

Gabrielle threw up her hands in disgust and the blanket puddled around her waist. "What do you want me to say, Xena?" Her eyes swam in unspilt tears as the words came tumbling out of her mouth in a nervous torrent. "I've done some horrible things in the last twenty-four hours. I stabbed Elkton! Those poor men at the river...and you...I hurt you...the things I said...the bruises on your body..." her voice drifted off into a painful whisper. "I did that."

Xena dug her heels into the soft earth, resisting the impulse to capture the girl in her arms for fear the healing catharsis might end there, prematurely silenced by soothing rhetoric and a familiar embrace. It took every last ounce of her strength not to yield to the pained expression on her friend's face. "Gabrielle...you haven't said or done anything that can't be undone. You were under Manus' influence."

Gabrielle shrugged and absently fingered the laces on her bodice. "I feel...dirty somehow, Xena...violated...with no way to wash myself clean..." I'M SO TIRED. Fatigue. Simple fatigue was at the root of her distress. "I think I need to go home to Poteidaia."

Xena nodded. "Okay, sounds reasonable. Your folks are probably -"

"For good, Xena." Gabrielle sniffed and looked up. "To stay."

"Oh, I see." Xena leaned forward, her hands clasped between her knees, trying not to impart by inflection or gesture just how unbearably lonely she would be without the girl. In the night, with its murmuring quiet, she drew guidance from a familiar wellspring of experience. "Never retreat." She could see Gabrielle regarding her with some confusion. "Never retreat, Gabrielle. It's demoralizing, and sooner or later, you're going to have to re-take the ground you once held."

Gabrielle took umbrage. "Are you saying I'm a coward because I want to put all this behind me?"

"We both know you're no coward," Xena countered. "But if you're confused and frustrated here, you're going to be confused and frustrated at home. You'll only take the pain with you," Xena concluded with absolutely certainty.

Gabrielle waved her hands accommodatingly; she knew that her friend was speaking from experience. Minutes passed in silence before the girl asked, "What would YOU do?"

"No, no. You have to make up your own mind." Xena stirred the fire with a stick, separating the larger logs so more air could pass between them. Through the veil of smoke and flying embers, she let her eyes come to rest on her friend. "Bottom line, Gabrielle?" She waited until the bard's eyes met hers before elaborating. "You have to live with your actions and the anger inside of you. You have to make your peace with it." From across the fire, Xena could hear the girl's swift intake of breath, a prelude to breakdown. "Right now, you're wondering if that's possible. You're wondering if that sort of behavior was in you all along and you're wondering if there's enough left of your integrity to make you a person worth loving. The answer to all three is yes."

"But those things I said..."

"...are in the past," Xena interjected firmly. She moved with deliberate patience to Gabrielle's side. "I've done worse," she said, kneeling. "But you still love me, right?"

Gabrielle tried to smile but her expression collapsed. Wordlessly, taking her cue from Xena's proximity, she launched herself into the warrior's arms and the tears came in a bitter, unrestrained flood. After long moments, she was able to stem the tide and catch her breath, but she still clung fiercely to her friend. "If I had killed you -" she murmured.

Firmly, Xena retorted, "But you didn't." She disengaged herself, holding the girl at arm's length; Gabrielle's tear-stained face was a study in vulnerability. "You didn't," she reiterated. "Now, relax...you're gonna have a frown line right..." she tapped the pronounced wrinkle between Gabrielle's brows. "...right there."

A heartbeat and a swift intake of breath preceded the shame-laced whisper, "I'm afraid to fall asleep. I'm afraid he'll be there...waiting for me."

Xena heaved a patient sigh. "That's impossible. I told you. Manus is dead."

"My head knows that," Gabrielle argued. "But there's something...deeper..." She shifted her gaze to the coals glowing at the fire's edge. "HE went deeper..."

"Look, Gabrielle, if Morpheus owes anyone a good night's sleep, he owes you."

Gabrielle shrugged, and everything about her expression was noncommittal. "I guess."

Xena was secretly relieved, for her own sake, to see that logic still had a place in her universe. She waited a beat, considering the girl's face, before murmuring 'Good night', and moving to her bedroll. She stretched her considerable length upon one blanket and haphazardly flung another across her legs, all the while aware that she was the object of scrutiny.

"Xena?"

Casually. "Yeah?"

"How did you know I wouldn't kill you?"

Xena's breath caught in her throat. As she lay there, staring up the stars, she took a dangerous gamble on the truth. "I didn't. But I knew I was prepared to die."

"And I would've been responsible," Gabrielle retorted indignantly. "Did you stop to think about how I might feel?"

Xena propped herself up on one elbow. "I'm not saying it was a perfect plan, Gabrielle. If I had it to do over again, maybe I'd make some different choices. I wasn't exactly thinking."

"You were thinking enough to surrender...you offered me your sword," she said, her voice a combination of wonder and accusation. "I almost killed you, Xena."

Xena nodded. "Any number of times. When you're motivated, we're pretty well-matched."

But Gabrielle was not to be swayed by flattery. "Why did you do it?"

"You know why: Manus had to be stopped."

"And it was a choice - you or me," said Gabrielle.

"No," Xena replied evenly. THERE WAS NEVER A CHOICE. She sighed, exhaustion fraying her emotions at their edges. "Look, it'll be daylight in a few hours. Can we continue this in the morning?"

"This is the morning, Xena," replied Gabrielle with irrefutable logic.

Xena's gaze was dangerous and when she spoke, her voice was an octave lower than normal. "Don't push your luck." Without another word, she dropped back to her blanket, pillowed her head on one arm and closed her eyes, signaling an end to any productive debate.

Despite Xena's abrupt answers, Gabrielle sensed that she wasn't truly angry. Xena was combative by nature, and guarded by custom. But there was something more behind the warrior's defensiveness. Just below that prickly demeanor, there was guilt...and fear. The bard was secretly encouraged to find that she and Xena had such a thing in common. "How can you sleep right now?"

"Easy," mumbled Xena without opening her eyes. "I put my head down, I close my eyes, I make little snoring sounds with my mouth."

Gabrielle groaned, her frustration evident as she threw up her hands . "Augh! You're impossible!"

Xena smiled vaguely. "Get some sleep if you can," she murmured, turning on her side. "I want to be on the road at sunrise." Her tone was light, but she knew that this topic of conversation was far from dead. The road to Poteidaia was a long one, and in a few hours, it would be filled with words.

From her place by the fire, Gabrielle fumed in silence. HOW CAN XENA LIVE WITH THESE FEELINGS? HOURS. DAYS. YEARS. AND WORSE STILL, HOW CAN I COMPARE MY GUILT TO HERS? Gabrielle tried to remember the last time, prior to this, that she'd done something she was truly ashamed of having done. She'd played truant from her studies, as children are likely to do. And when she was 10, she'd filched peaches from a neighbor's orchard. Her guilt on both occasions lingered only slightly longer than the sting from her father's well-placed hand. Absently rolling a length of kindling between her hands, Gabrielle considered that it was not the depth of guilt that mattered, or even the length of time one suffered under the yoke of such a thing, but how well they coped. Xena could and did function very well. She lived every day with tremendous guilt and while it was always there, it was never crippling. If anything, Xena seemed to feed off of it like some bitter fruit - sustenance to rise every day and go about her business. Yet another aspect of the Warrior Princess to admire, and yet another lesson to be taught. In the midst of her introspection, and quite unnoticed, Gabrielle's anger left her, slipping from her body like a foe from a conquered land, leaving only exhaustion in its wake. As the bard stared at her friend's back, she ventured tentatively, "Xena...are you asleep?" Xena responded by raising the corner of her blanket in an unspoken invitation. Heaving a sigh of relief, Gabrielle left her place by the fire and crawled into the bedroll alongside her friend.

There was some shuffling, some arranging and re-arranging of the blanket, all of which Xena endured with quiet patience and when Gabrielle remarked on the unyielding quality of breast armor in general, the warrior had swiftly removed and discarded same. As the bard made herself comfortable in the curve of Xena's shoulder, Xena warned playfully, "Fluff...and you die."

Gabrielle laughed soundlessly and snaked an arm around Xena's waist. They lay that way for some time, under the gaze of the stars, breathing in unison. Gabrielle's first impulse was to say nothing, to preserve this perfect silence. It was an impulse immediately conquered by curiosity. "One more question?"

"Yeah?" replied Xena, yawning. Of all things, her patience seemed inexhaustible.

"Did you mean what you said?" Gabrielle asked; Xena's half-closed eyes begged elaboration. "About us being evenly matched."

"I think I said 'pretty well-matched'...and yeah, I meant it. You gave as good as you got."

Gabrielle snorted, "Only because you were holding back."

Xena said nothing to refute the accusation, but a vague smile turned up the corners of her lips. "Goodnight, Gabrielle," she said, before once again closing her eyes in pursuit of sleep.

Gabrielle squinted, regarding with some seriousness her friend's face as lit by the fire. Her eyes drifted down from the strong chin to the small wound at the base of Xena's throat - clean and shallow, about the length of her little finger - it wouldn't even leave a scar. She was compelled to touch it, to commit to memory this tangible reminder of the longest dark night of her life.

Xena felt the bard's touch, feather light upon the hollow of her throat, and she started to say something, but the mournful expression on the girl's face stopped her cold. She watched with pent-up breath as a tear made lazy progress down the blade of Gabrielle's nose before falling in a warm droplet upon her arm. More tears threatened, a squall line of woe. Fumbling in the dark, Xena's fingers found Gabrielle's, bringing both hands to rest across her abdomen. "Close your eyes..." She gave the girl's hand a reassuring squeeze. "At least PRETEND to sleep."

Gabrielle nodded into Xena's shoulder; the scent of leather was very strong. She felt a hand stroking her hair and she closed her eyes, making a concerted effort to sweep the day's unpleasantries to the back of her mind. She would deal with them in all good time. Presently, she became aware of a sweet melody, resonating through Xena's chest, humming along the tiny bones in her own ear. She laughed softly and rubbed her ear. "That tickles..."

"Sorry."

"No. Don't stop," Gabrielle entreated; she knew Xena only sang when moved. She felt Xena's chin come to rest on her head. "It's nice," she said, at the edge of sleep. "Does it have words?"

Xena frowned at the stars. DOES IT HAVE WORDS? Until the music came unbidden to her lips, she had forgotten she ever knew the melody, and the words, even after 20 summers, were as fresh in her mind as the day she committed them to memory.

WOMEN WHO SING THEMSELVES TO SLEEP LIE WITH THEIR HANDS AT REST, LOCKED OVER THEM NIGHT-LONG AS THOUGH TO KEEP MUSIC AGAINST THEIR BREAST. THEY DREAM, WHO HOLD BENEATH THE HAND A CRUMPLED SHAPE OF SONG, OF TREMBLING SOUND THEY DO NOT UNDERSTAND, YET LOVE THE WHOLE NIGHT LONG.

"My mother used to sing that to me when I was very small," murmured Xena, her voice thick with sleep. "No matter how much I swore I wasn't tired, I'd always be fast asleep before she finished." She smiled to herself and continued to absently stroke the bard's hair. "Do you think she'd be flattered or insulted?" No answer. "Gabrielle?" A small snoring sound wafted up, in concert with the murmuring cicadas. Night music, more satisfying than the sweetest melody. Xena exhaled, a long sigh of relief and contentment. Her arm was beginning to tingle under the weight of Gabrielle's head; she shifted carefully, relieving some of the pressure. The bard never stirred. Now, only when she knew Gabrielle was truly asleep did she permit herself to seek her own peace in earnest. Her last conscious thought, before the gratifying seduction of sleep, was of her mother, and how she, too, must have been flattered at her voice's effect.

*Author's postscript:

Gabrielle's sleep, when it finally came, was profound and dreamless - Morpheus' reward for a job well done, and his sole concession to obligation. No one could say this Dream God did not pay his debts.

Sweet Dreams


End file.
